


Something In The Distance (So Close You Can Almost Taste It)

by magicalou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Accident, Angst, Artist!Harry, Domestic Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, F1 - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Formula 1, Formula One, Harry Styles - Freeform, Hate, I Tried, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, Love, M/M, Race, Racer - Freeform, Racing, artist, celebrity, harry - Freeform, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, louis - Freeform, painter, painter!harry, race car, racer!louis, sculptor, stylinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 118,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23750323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalou/pseuds/magicalou
Summary: Louis was good. He was about to become the most successful racer in Formula 1. He had a clear path: break some records, win most races, then repeat it all again the next year.Of course, that’s when Harry bloody Styles comes in.OR, Louis is a Formula 1 driver for Scuderia Ferrari and Harry is a painter and sculptor, one of the most beloved from our time, and Louis's biggest pain in the ass.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 37
Kudos: 57





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrified. I've devoted myself to this book since a year ago and I've finally gathered the courage to click 'Post.' It's yours now. Take care of it :) 
> 
> I accept all sorts of criticism, let me know what you think in the comments!

Louis was late. 

He was never late, especially for testing, but he was late today, and Liam was going to have his head. He was running fast and weaving past giant machines lifting cars off massive trucks, mechanics eyeing him curiously, some of them stopping to stare. Louis Tomlinson, English-racer for Formula 1, and the second youngest racer in history with most Grands Prix wins. Fifty-six and counting. 

Louis was pumped, he could feel the adrenaline building up in his muscles, his heart beating faster. Winter testing was starting today, and it would go on for the next ten days. Pre-testing was a crucial time for drivers to test their brand new cars and really get acquainted with them. It was also an opportunity to fight for the best times on the track. In the world of racing, almost everything was a competition, and testing was no exception. It was definitely Louis’ favorite time to get a sense of the other racer’s techniques, strengths, and weaknesses. 

Barcelona was windy, not too cold or hot on that February evening. The number of tourists had gone down, which left only racing fans waiting outside the Circuit de Catalunya. Louis posed for pictures with the ones who approached him, and then he’d been inside, sprinting to the Ferrari Pit Box.

It was bustling with people everywhere, from cameras rolling in and tyres being moved around, the atmosphere was growing almost like electricity, tension and excitement thick in the air. Louis breathed a few times after he avoided crashing into a Renault technician, trying his best to stay cool. 

Scuderia Ferrari was Liam’s and Louis’s team. It was the eight-year they were racing for them, both of their contracts freshly renewed for four more years. Louis knew it was only thanks to Ferrari they’d managed to win so many championships for drivers and constructors. 

Constructors were the wins given to the team as a whole by the end of the Grand Prix tour, the sum of points between Liam and Louis together. The drivers, though, were given only to the racer with the most points by the end of the final Grand Prix. 

It was easy for a team to work like a fine Swiss watch when everyone was on the same page. Most of the time, teams failed and burned when they couldn’t agree on the track, when the burning anxiety and tension of races made them snap at their principals, and when the racers got cocky and trusted their instincts too much.

Ferrari staff worked flawlessly on pit stops and strategies in the field. It was easy when there was a big-budget and an agile team of people constantly working behind the scenes. 

Liam was one of the best so that always helped. He had 20 Grands Prix wins, and he was second to Louis, never missing a beat in tight corners or hesitating in risky maneuvers. It’s what made them champions since 2014. It’s what Louis knew would—with a little bit of luck— make them champions in 2020 too. 

“You’re late,” Liam yelled over the sound of a drill going off. He was wearing his red racing suit.

“I overslept,” Louis said, his expression apologetic, but Liam didn’t say anything else. Louis knew he was probably too excited to scold him. 

“Good weekend?” Liam asked once Louis had caught up to him. 

“I didn’t sleep much, then I binged on Netflix and a few energy drinks on Sunday,” Louis admitted. He was wearing baggy black joggers and a black shirt, though he would change into his suit soon. 

Liam tutted in disapproval, “You should’ve called. I went sight-seeing through Madrid and took an early flight here yesterday.” 

Louis only shrugged and nudged Liam’s arm with his elbow, “I wouldn’t want to interrupt what little time you and Zayn had before this, though.”

“We wouldn’t have minded!”

“I know that, which is why I would’ve felt bad. You’re both too good to me,” Louis said, looking at the sidelines of the circuit instead of Liam’s sad-puppy face. 

“You’re a twat,” Liam said, sad, “next time we’ll come to kidnap you into our weekend plans.”

Louis rolled his eyes and kept squinting to see the track floor. Clean, no rubber set down yet. “What’s Z doing for the week then? Is he going to be able to come?”

Zayn Malik had been Liam’s boyfriend since three years ago. He was a model for some of the most famous fashion houses in the world, and his face was constantly plastered on magazines. He was a walking sex-symbol, to say the least. He had flawless olive skin, thanks to his half Pakistani mum. With a sculptured jaw, a set of honey-colored eyes, and midnight black hair, Zayn was everything the billboards needed and more. 

“I don’t think he is. He said Milan fashion week is like a few days from now, and he’s literally got fifteen shows lined up— almost one after the other. He told me he hopes you can catch one. Said he really wants to see you before the season starts.”

“I’ll talk to Fran; she’ll find a day for me,” Louis nodded, looking away from the track.

“I pity Fran, being your manager’s probably a nightmare.”

“She loves me. Thank you. She says I’m a delight.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Louis agreed, and Liam laughed, but it was short-lived once they reached the pit box. 

It was covered at the front by giant panels with their logo on it—the ‘box’ resembling a regular-looking garage. Every team had one customized to their brand's colors and sponsors, so their own was very red and very striking.

Louis and Liam had only seen their car a few times. Once at the annual reveal party and through drafts when they were designing it. As they stepped between the panels and looked straight on at the cars which they would drive for the next year, Louis couldn’t help but smile wide and big, already pumped to climb on.

“It’s a fucking _beauty_ ,” Liam said, and Louis had to agree. It was a sight for sore eyes. The team had upgraded _everything._ The engines looked sleek, and the shape of the car screamed ‘aerodynamic perfection,’ which made all the engineers weak in the knees at their meetings, including Louis— who had only covered the very basics of engineering. The body made it look like a futuristic rocket ship, and it certainly made Louis’ inner child want to climb aboard and drive it through the city so everyone could look at it.

“I can’t wait to drive it,” Liam said giddily, like a five-year-old. Louis agreed.

“I’ll take it in the afternoon against Lacasa— been dying to give ‘im a proper beating for months,” Louis said, the second part quieter in case cameras were nearby.

Liam snorted, “Lacasa and Tomlinson is the cutest and stupidest feud I’ve ever seen in F1 history,” Liam said, and Louis laughed. 

Antonio Lacasa was a Spanish Mercedes’ driver since two years ago, and a pain in Louis’ ass. He was always second to Louis, and he was still considered a rookie because he’d only just began racing about five years before he made it to Formula 1. Normally racers had a solid decade of practicing before they made it to the big leagues. Lacasa was the exception. 

Another thing about the Spanish driver was that he was Louis’ number one fan and his biggest threat. He was like a cute cactus. “It’s not _cute,_ it’s bloody and terrifying, and I’m going to destroy him this season,” Louis said but made his voice dramatically low, and Liam did not take any of it seriously.

“Look at the panel on this thing,” Liam said in awe, distracted by the steering wheel that looked much better than last years. Louis had been shown pictures of what the new wheel would look like, but up-close he saw a world of possibilities that made him dizzy with excitement.

Growing up with Liam since they were ten made reading him easy. They were best friends who met trying out for some local races in London. Louis had been racing since he was tiny because his father loved Formula 1. He began by kid karting at five, and from there, he figured he loved being behind the wheel— and he was behind it constantly despite his mum’s pleas to dedicate his time to baking or painting, ‘something safe, anything Louis, please.’ 

She always made him stop before going out to race when she got too worried for him. She would talk for hours about how terrified it made her watching her first son leave home to do something so dangerous. She said it was a bittersweet feeling that made her shake to the core. She was always proud, but also, she was always scared. Louis grew accustomed to calming her down as a teenager. By the time he was qualifying for Formula 2 and then getting the green light for F1, he had her full support— she was still just a little scared every time.

Liam and Louis grew up racing together and learning each other's techniques and strategies in the races. They came of age a few houses down from each other, and they grew up in the racing world the same way. It was easy most of the time, and there wasn’t any pressure because they’d been young then; they were in local races trying to make it big, and school seemed pointless, but they were still forced to go.

Then, Liam got injured in the last Formula 2 GP right before he made champion, and Louis moved ahead with Ferrari. He promised to catch up as soon as he recovered. Two years passed, and Louis found himself winning consecutively in the Grands Prix. He earned his title as a ‘young prodigy’ by his third season with the Italian team. After another season, Louis was appointed as the first racer for Ferrari, and Liam finally caught up as his second. By then, Louis had already won 24 Grand Prix. Liam caught up to him with seven wins in Louis’ fourth season, and from there, they were known as the ‘Dream Team.’ 

“Got to say, mate, this will totally be our best season yet,” Liam said, and he was biting on his lip to hold back a smile, looking ahead at the monitors showing the track and this year’s driver stats. Louis felt even more pumped and jumped on Liam’s back, slapping his arms and then messing up his short hair. “Let’s do this, Payno!”

+

Half an hour after they’d arrived and warmed up, the rest of their team slowly trickled in and began to suit Liam up to take the wheel. 

Niall Horan, Liam’s primary race engineer, and Ben Winston Louis’ primary hugged them both. They hadn’t seen each other in a month, but as much as Louis needed driving, everyone on their team adored the racing and their jobs. They had a good dynamic, him, Liam, Niall, and Ben. They _worked._ They got on so well that it reflected in their performance on the circuits. People noticed, too, and they loved them.

“ _Seems like Ferrari’s Liam Payne is prepping for the first round of testing this morning,”_ The commentator from the F1 channel said on a TV nearby. Each pit box had a live feed from some sports channels to keep up with what the commentators were saying. “ _We still can’t see the Ferrari car, covered by panels there.”_

Louis turned at the mention of their car and clocked the camera on a dolly high up in the air through the sun rays, the black panels hiding the mechanics and their brand new car. 

There were bound to be cameras. The first round of testing was the most anticipated because it officially marked the start of a new season, and it showed all the best and worst from their car’s performance and their drivers too. Louis always made it his mission to set the fastest time in the first week of testing. Last year he’d beat everyone’s time by two thousands of a second, which wasn’t much in a normal context, but in racing, a second looked the same size as a football field.

“Payno,” He called, and Liam immediately turned to him, helmet hovering over his head, his arms lowering to listen to Louis. 

“Yeah?”

“Remember to fight the four, five, and ten; they’re the trickiest.”

“Already noted,” Liam nodded, smiling, and he somehow understood Louis was just telling him to be careful and safe. It was a little too late in their careers to warn each other for the risks of driving more than 200 mph, but they could still be sure to remind each other that caution wasn’t overrated.

Crashes were one of the most common occurrences in races, and it’s what actually kept avid fans on their toes— the promise that on a tight corner, there could be a grisly crash or a spin on to grass or gravel. Louis had been in a few heart-stopping crashes that had made his mum so worried she’d almost fainted. Louis felt horrible when these types of accidents occurred, but most often than not, they were inevitable. 

Louis’ worst crash took place two years ago at the Bahrain circuit; a slow track with corners so tight overtaking seemed like a joke. Louis had been driving fast down to turn 8 in first place, battling against Alfa Romeo’s Pablo Andino for his spot. He’d underestimated the heat of his tires when they gave out and made him slide to the side of the track, where he and Andino crashed into each other. Andino only got minor injuries, but Louis’ car went straight into a concrete wall— and he still can’t remember—at some point his car flipped in the air, and landed back on four wheels. 

Louis got severe whiplash and slammed his head so hard against the sides of the car he was left with a faint ringing that still bothers him to this day. When Louis played back his crash, he could understand why his mum and sisters were so shaken. It’d looked so aggressive that Louis coiled back himself when he watched his car flip in the air and watched his head slam horribly against the sides. It would’ve surely killed him had he not been harnessed to his seat, and had the HANS device on his shoulders to protect his spine. He was sore for the better part of a month and managed to go back to the races by the time the Monaco Grand Prix came around. He won Monaco, and then he felt the world shake for a whole day after that.

“Ready when you are Payno,” Niall said from the pit wall— a literal wall right in front of their pit box, which had six staff members analyzing the track during every part of the race. Three for Louis, and three for Liam. The three guys watched performance, tyres, and the engine of their cars. Niall and Ben gave the pit board updates, letting them both know who was on the lead and who was about to overtake them. They handled almost everything Louis and Liam did on the track.

“Let’s get another constructors lads,” Niall said loud, in his Irish timbre, patting Louis’ back and laughing boisterously, the rest of the staff cheering as they all packed on their wireless headsets. 

Niall had his headset on, and he was eyeing all the screens in front of him like a villain in a superhero movie. Louis decided to check in with the mechanics. There was the loud noise of the drill adjusting the tyres on the car at light-speed, all the men who worked in the Ferrari team filling the tiny pit lane to about twenty men, fussing and walking over the engines and the car itself. 

Liam was already cozily sat on the car, his helmet on. He did a thumbs up to Louis standing on the side. A mechanic handed Liam his steering wheel, and once it was properly placed, the engine roared to life, and Louis’ ears rung with that familiar sting. The sting of a monstrous engine revving up to fly at more than 200 mph. Louis’ hairs stood on end, goosebumps all over, and he wasn’t even inside the car yet.

Louis’ fingers itched, he could feel the pull and excitement of driving again, spinning fast through his fingers, his arms, his legs. Louis thought of a world where he wouldn’t be able to drive at all, and his stomach did a terrible turn, displeased. Even his body knew how much he needed this. He’d known nothing else since he was young.

It was wrong to think like that because one of the realities all the drivers had to face was how dangerous racing was. Louis had seen people die before in the same races he’d been in. Formula, 3, and 4 took at least three talented racers who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it happened, and Louis also had to remind himself this wouldn’t be his life forever.

He made a promise to himself, long ago, that once he had or planned on having children, racing would have to start becoming a hobby, and not his source of primary income. It couldn’t be, it would be selfish of him. 

Niall tapped his shoulder softly so he wouldn’t startle. The sound of the race car left no room to talk to anyone, so it wouldn’t have mattered if Niall yelled anyway.

He handed Louis a headset of his own and tapped a button on the side, which turned it on. Louis nodded in thanks then put the headphones on.

“-checking the steering and the tyres,” came Liam’s voice immediately, and Louis didn’t bother trying to deduce what he was saying, assuming it was last minute talk before he set out to drive.

They had decided with Ben that Liam and Louis would try to burn out around 120 laps, so they were comfortably sure the car was up to speed on the first day. They would switch, and use the second car tomorrow, switching them up each day until any problems or errors were solved for the first Prix of the season.

“Roll the panels off,” Ben’s voice ordered through the headset, and the mechanics outside nodded, aware of what everyone else was saying through the headsets. 

The panels with the Ferrari logo were rolled away, and immediately a group of around seven photographers kneeled and jumped to get the best shots of this season’s Ferrari race car, decorated with all its sponsor's stickers and the new red paint job. The car was a true beauty, no doubt. 

Liam played it up for the cameras, waving to the photographers as he rolled fast into the takeoff track, which leads straight to the giant circuit miles away. Louis walked out so he could see Liam off. Once he stopped at the mouth of the pit stop, photographers were ready to take pictures from every angle. After a few seconds of revving the engine, Liam took off with a thunderous sound, and the car disappeared around the corner. 

+

Louis took his time walking around the bleachers where the crowds usually sat, staring out at Liam doing laps for the majority of the time he was in the car. From high up in the stands, he could watch the only other racer on the track at the moment, Lacasa, who was driving laps with Liam. Louis looked out at the Mercedes Pit Stop, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of this year’s new Mercedes driver. 

There’d been talk that a new female driver was entering Formula 1 for the first time since 1992. There’d been female test drivers since then, but everyone knew test drivers were not as historical as a woman entering to win the actual Grands Prix. The rumor was that Mercedes was going to bring on a woman to race along with Antonio, and by woman, _everyone_ knew they meant fellow English racer, Gemma Styles. 

Styles won almost all of last year's F2 races and then was victoriously named the champion of Formula 2 in last year’s final race. The higher-ups sneered and muttered under their breaths because they were the most old-fashioned from anyone in the racing world, but Louis felt excited at the prospect of racing against a woman in the Grand Prix— especially against someone like Styles. 

He’d grown up in a household full of women, strong and kind women who had shaped him all his life; his mum, Jay, and his five younger sisters, Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, Phoebe, and Doris— he knew how important Styles was to this year's races if she was on the team. How significant to the racing world.

Louis had actually met Gemma personally. There’d been a driver’s charity ball for all the F2 and F1 drivers. From what he remembered, she was funny, fast, and had a sharp tongue, much like Louis himself. She was amazing in interviews, always knowing what to say to make people like her, and it was so incredibly satisfying to hear a woman’s voice in the radio coms while watching races. The racing world truly didn’t know they needed women racers until Gemma arrived and changed everything. She appeared in TIME’s magazine covers and Vogue’s too. She changed the rules, and never apologized for anything. After all that, though, another thing the gossip sites and magazines loved to say about Gemma, was how much she looked like her younger brother. 

Louis’ stomach fluttered.

Harry Styles, 25, a world-famous artist. Painter, sculptor, author of two successful art books, part-time actor, and who every once in awhile modeled for Gucci because he was incredibly pretty. Louis only knew him that night because he was friends with Zayn and because Louis’ sisters loved him. He was supposedly a delight in interviews and charming with crowds— of course; he was easy on the eyes too, even Louis had to admit it. 

But, after all that, Harry was still the pompous ass he’d met at the ball that night. He was the one Louis’d given a blowjob to in the bathroom because he was feeling reckless and drunk. That wasn’t his proudest moment. 

In flashing memories, Louis remembered the night with a tinge of deep regret.

_Gemma had introduced herself to Louis and Liam and congratulated them on their 2018 Grand Prix wins, and next to her had been Harry Styles. People were turning to look at the very famous artist, even if it was just a glimpse. He’d been far too many drinks in. The night hadn’t even properly started._

_(Under all that though, Louis would’ve been a fool to deny Harry’s simple presence in an elegant blue shimmery suit hadn’t knocked the breath out of him. He was beautiful. Light-green eyes, soft short curls that matched his long, dark eyelashes, a bit of facial hair, and pink, plump lips that looked sinful. He had smooth and dewy skin that made his features even more flawless. He had a towering height. Louis understood why he moved the world)._

_Harry had half-slurred congratulations to the two of them, and Gemma attempted a pained smile, giving them a weak excuse to go say hi to some other racers nearby, half-dragging her brother’s body away from them._

_Louis, though, couldn’t forgive the fact that Gemma’s celebrity brother was at this ball, where she was attempting to meet everyone, all while holding on to her drunk brother so he wouldn’t stumble, and fall flat on his face._

_Louis thought of his own sisters and how horrible they would feel if he did something like this to them. He felt a pang of sadness for her._

_Once Gemma had finished introducing herself to Mercedes’ Team Principal, Louis was quick to swoop back into her line of vision, an idea just then formed in his mind. He did take after his mother’s impulsive character._

_“Gemma, hi,” Louis had said as kindly as possible, wondering if he’d regret what he was doing._

_Gemma had looked surprised at Louis’ sudden reappearance, “Hi.”_

_“I don’t want to overstep, but I wanted to help,” Louis said and subtly looked at Harry, hanging off Gemma’s arm. “Maybe I could sober him up a bit, while you work the crowd?”_

_“Oh,” She said, eyes wide. Suddenly the most relieved expression overtook Gemma’s face as she sighed deeply, trying to stay composed, she whispered, “He’s been so intense tonight, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, I swear he’s not normally like this.”_

_Louis nodded in sympathy, and once Gemma seemed to consider her options, she passed her brother’s almost limp figure over to him, trying her hardest to be discreet while all the other racers surrounded them. Louis’ eyes almost watered by how strong Harry’s breath stunk of alcohol but decided to ignore it._

_“Thank you so much, Louis, I’ll repay you. Just give him a few glasses of water, and he’ll get better. I’ve never seen him like this,” Gemma mentioned, looking worried but still annoyed with her brother as he seemed to come in and out of reality, slurring and muttering like they weren’t there._

_“I’ve had drunk people to care for before, don’t worry. Enjoy the ball now; God knows I’d do anything to escape for a few minutes,” Louis said and winked at her. Gemma smiled tentatively and shot Harry one last look before she disappeared into the crowd._

_So, the next hour at the party consisted of sitting Harry down at the bar and forbidding the bartender from serving any more alcohol to him. He reckoned the bartender complied because of how starstruck he’d seemed at seeing Louis. Sometimes being recognized came in handy._

_A few glasses of water later and at least ten songs since he’d taken Harry to the bar, the artist finally began to seem more lucid, suddenly registering Louis was taking care of him, and that he seemed vaguely familiar. “Who… are you again?”_

_“Louis. I saved your sister from you. She was trying to meet all the suits, and you kept almost falling over while she shook hands. I volunteered to help,” Louis said and attempted to keep the bite from his tone, but he still sounded cold._

_“Shit,” Harry said guiltily, and let his head fall in his hands. His voice was deep and honey-like._

_“Yeah, shit.”_

_“I didn’t notice I was drinking so much,” Harry lamented, and Louis kept his eyes on the dance floor, ignoring Harry’s passing glances at Louis’ figure. If he didn’t know any better, it would’ve seemed like the artist was checking him out. “I’m Harry Styles.”_

_“Hmm, we covered that when Gemma introduced herself, but—it’s a pleasure,” Louis said sarcastically, then turned to Harry, looking at him straight in the eyes. Harry did have beautiful eyes, no doubt. Green and almost vibrant when the light hits them right._

_“Well, I just think it’s only polite to introduce myself properly,” Harry said, and he suddenly smirked one eyebrow raised, his short curly hair a wonderful distraction, “especially to someone as fit as you.”_

_Louis took everything in his power not to react._

_Through all the things going on in his mind, Louis managed a nonchalant shrug, “Lame.”_

_Harry laughed softly, and there were dimples. Louis breathed in through his nose once and looked away to the dance floor once more. “Been told otherwise, but you’re not the first hard-to-get.”_

_Louis snapped his eyes to Harry_ again _, insult in his face, “‘I’m not hard-to-get’ you git, I’m not interested. Also, someone ought to say no to you; you look like you’re a spoiled brat.”_

_“I_ am _a spoiled brat,” Harry said with delight, and Louis suddenly fought the urge to kick him, “That’s a fact. You are disarmingly handsome— another fact,” Harry said like he was not scared of the consequence of his actions. Louis believed he wasn’t. “Let me buy you a drink, see if you win one of those Grand Prix in my name.”_

_Louis snorted loudly, showing how absurd he thought Harry sounded, “First of all, in your dreams. Second, It’s an open bar, and you’re banned. Finally, third, I hope you don’t go treating the rest of the people here like that. Your sister’s trying to win people over. You shouldn’t ruin this for her,” Louis bit back, getting irritated by Harry’s lack of shame._

_“I wouldn’t,” Harry said immediately, even a little bit annoyed— a slight frown in his brow, “Gemma’s the most important person to me. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Plus, I know how important this is. If she goes through to F1, she makes history. I’d never tarnish that,” Harry said with fervor, and he looked sincere. He turned his body to the bar, his back to the dance floor._

_Louis sat mildly impressed but kept his cool demeanor, refusing to show he was glad by the artist’s answer. At least he was self-aware._

_He nodded and also turned from the dance floor. “Ok, good. I’m really rooting for her,” Louis said distracted, and played with a wet coaster on the bar top._

_“I am the person rooting for her the most aside from our mum. Don’t think I didn’t notice you changed the subject,” Harry said, and he almost sounded petulant, his brow not creased anymore which made his whole face young again, “I’ll get you 28,” Harry side-eyed him, looking smug again, a slight smirk on his lips._

_Louis wanted to ask how he even knew his car’s number, but he nevertheless refrained, because he knew it would only feed Harry’s ego to know he affected Louis in any way. Cool was the trick. “Keep telling yourself that, maybe you’ll sleep better.”_

_Harry was about to say something else when Gemma suddenly appeared between them, a worried look as she eyed them, probably expecting Harry to be saying something embarrassing. Which he had been, but Louis would never let Gemma know that._  
  
“There you are, was looking everywhere for you two,” Gemma cut in, turning to Harry and giving him a look. She turned to Louis once Harry climbed off the barstool and bent his arm to hold her hand around his inner elbow. She smiled softly at her brother and then looked at Louis with a grateful smile, warmth in her eyes, “Thank you, Louis. I’m sorry if he kept you from anything.”

_“I’m still here,” Harry protested quietly at her, and she elbowed his side hard, making him close his eyes from the hit. She whispered something like, ‘you’re in enough trouble.’_

_“Wasn’t a problem. I really did want to escape the party a while, so, don’t worry.”_

_Gemma thanked him one last time before Liam pulled Louis off to greet one of the eldest FIA members that had just arrived._

_After that, he didn’t see much of Harry for at least another hour. By the time the older people left, it was just the drivers and their plus-ones, so the party took full swing around two A.M._

_Louis wasn’t much for partying until dawn, but he’d worked himself to the bone all through the season so he’d let himself have a few (or a lot) more drinks than he’d normally do at parties. By the time he met up with Harry again, they were both equally drunk._

_The dance floor was crowded with different groups of people, all of them dancing and screaming to a Bruno Mars song. The flashing lights combined with the shots Liam and him drank at the beginning of the night, caught up to Louis fast._

_In a blink, he was jumping and screaming random lyrics in stranger’s faces, sweating through his suit, and giggling whenever someone did anything remotely funny. He could see Liam on his peripheral vision making out with Zayn in a secluded corner, not paying them much mind as he let himself get lost with the booming bass shaking the whole floor and the walls. He was smiling and talking over the music with random girls and nodding to anything they said to him even though he couldn’t hear anyone over his ringing ears._

_Pop songs that made everyone sing along changed to sensual RnB that made couples grind to the music, people taking the opportunity to make out. Louis was happy letting his body mold with the spaces in between everyone else until he had a firm body against his own._

_He briefly checked who had been brave enough to approach him, when he immediately realized it was Harry, from before._

_Louis wasn’t sure if it’d been the alcohol or the adrenaline from all the dancing, but at that moment, he let Harry press his hips against his ass, and with the beat of the music, they danced against each other. Louis was good at many things, and he prided himself on the fact that he loved being a great tease._

_Harry’s body was warm, probably because he’d been dancing too, but Louis didn’t mind anything except for Harry’s exhales against his neck, where Louis was leaning his head on his shoulder, letting his back push against Harry’s front. Harry was moving his hips perfectly to the song, and Louis could feel Harry’s faint facial hair pricking his cheek where they touched every few minutes._

_By the time the song ended, and another one immediately started, Louis took the chance and turned himself, so he was facing the curly-haired man, smirking devilishly as he fluttered his eyelashes at him. He pressed their fronts together again, grabbing Harry’s hips so they could keep dancing along to the music._

_Looking at him, Louis could see Harry’s eyes were filled with lust, staring at Louis with hunger. His plump pink lips were perfectly round and slightly parted, breathing heavily where they still sweated, looking at each other intensely._

_“Wanna go to the bathroom, 28?” Harry murmured in his ear, so low and raspy that Louis could feel himself getting hard. Fuck._

_“I fucking despise you for calling me that,” Louis moaned back where they were still pressed tightly together. “Let’s go.”_

_Two minutes later, in the private bathroom of a fancy hotel, both Harry and Louis were panting. Louis made quick work pushing Harry’s pants down his legs, and in the next moment, he had Harry’s dick completely in his mouth. He was sucking fervently, letting his tongue swirl and move around the tip of his cock, closing his eyes as he pumped with his hand too. Louis felt a tinge of pride at Harry’s loud and aggressive grunts, moaning and exhaling when Louis did anything fancy with his tongue. Harry’s giant hands were tangled in Louis’ hair, his fingers pulling ever so slightly from the roots._

_“F-fuck Louis,” Harry managed in between breaths, eyes shut tight as Louis kept pumping him in between his lips. When Louis looked up at Harry, he noticed Harry had already been looking at him, his eyes drowning in desire. He decided to bottom out to the back of his throat, wanting to gag so he could look at Harry while doing it._

_When he felt the tip of Harry’s cock graze the back of his throat, Louis immediately gagged, he looked up at Harry while doing so, and Harry was quick to scrunch his eyes shut again. His hands closed into fists, pulling his hair a little rougher than before, which only made Louis suck faster._

_“I-If you do that again, I-I’m going to c-come,” Harry rasped, moaning ever so slightly._

_Louis took that as a challenge and immediately let himself gag on Harry’s dick again and again, looking with his wide blue eyes up at the artist, who was looking down at him. He kept bobbing his head, letting his tongue dance across the tip a little more, before Harry’s abdomen contracted in a warning._

_“L-Louis I-’’ Harry stuttered, trying to warn him._

_Louis kept sucking fast, alternating between using his hand and bottoming so he could gag on Harry’s cock. A few more tries, and after a good swipe of his tongue, he felt Harry grunt with pleasure. He shot his load straight to the back of Louis’ throat, and once he was done, Louis swallowed satisfied._

_Harry let his fisted hands slowly open back up, letting go of Louis’ hair, panting with flushed cheeks and a sweaty shirt. Louis wasn’t any better. He had bloodshot eyes, messy hair going in every direction, and swollen pink lips that made Harry want to moan at the sight._

_“Wow.”_

_Louis stood back up while Harry tucked himself into his pants, but then Harry immediately let his hand shoot straight for Louis’ very uncomfortable hard-on. He palmed Louis fast through his pants, making him almost double-over with the pleasure, and physically felt the air being knocked out from his lungs. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him and shut his eyes in pure ecstasy._

_“Shit,” Louis cursed when Harry began to unfasten his own pants, letting his cold palm grab ahold of his dick. Louis could swear he saw stars the moment Harry started pumping him with practiced ease. His hands were big and sleek, the perfect size to give great hand-jobs._

_It was messy, it was loud, and it was perfect. Louis could feel all his nerve-endings migrate straight to his cock, where he couldn’t stop the growing heat that was already building up in his stomach._

_Harry was looking intensely at him, and once Louis opened his eyes to look at him too, there was no turning back. He was staring at Harry with blown pupils, his gaping mouth breathing heavily when Harry never faltered or paused his hand movement. He was a sight to behold._

_Green, forest green eyes, and the perfect pink on the lips. His cheeks flushed crimson red, and his hair messy enough to look sinfully hot. Louis couldn’t hold back from that face; it was too good for words. Better than those black eyes he’d stared into for so long. Thank god he was out of that. This was fine. Better. Temporary. Fuck Leo._

_Almost in that exact moment, Louis felt his own body contract with pleasure, and he felt himself getting dangerously close. All there that existed was Harry’s heavy breathing and his soft palm on him._

_“H-harry,” Louis moaned in between pants._

_“Come for me, Louis,” Harry rasped lowly, his infuriatingly perfect face and voice contorting like he was feeling Louis’ euphoria too._

_Louis moaned one final time before he felt himself release into Harry’s hand, his brain going dizzy for a second while he let the layers of his orgasm roll over him like a peaceful wave. It was divine. It was freeing._

_A minute after coming down from his high, Louis let his head back up from the deep waters, feeling his breathing slowly return to a slower exhale and inhale._

_“Fuck me that was fantastic,” Harry muttered disbelieving, looking at Louis from where he was leaning on the marble walls, eyes semi-closed. His voice echoed across the stone, and Louis looked around where they were for the first time. It was a tall room, with a fancy cream porcelain toilet to the side, a few towels on a rack, and a beautiful ornate sink. It screamed posh and fancy._

_Louis pushed from the wall and turned his head to look back at Harry, tucking himself back into his pants as well._

_“You should wash that off,” Louis commented when he noticed his own cum in Harry’s palm, thankfully not touching the sleeve of his coat jacket, which he never took off. It looked expensive as shit._

_“Shouldn’t I lick it off?” Harry asked with a sly smirk, eyes still looking temptingly at him._

_“I think the time passed for that, plus we should hurry unless you want everyone to suspect what we were doing in here,” Louis said, his head spinning from the drinks, but feeling lucid enough— they had to be smart about the situation._

_Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to the ornate sink, turning on the water before he quickly washed his hands with soap, “You should loosen up, 28, not even with a few good drinks and a handjob do you relax,” Harry said smugly, his face reflected on the mirror in front of him. The only sounds were the echoing water and the thumping music not too far away._

_“You’re making me regret this by the second,” Louis mumbled with a racing heart, cheeks red. To distract himself and do something instead of just standing there, he tried to fix his hair, and rearrange his shirt to look passable enough._

_“Here, let me,” Harry said softly once he dried his hands with a towel. He walked straight back to Louis again and immediately started combing Louis’ hair with his big ringed fingers. His eyes were full of concentration as he moved strands of hair to one side and pulled at others. “It’s only fair. I did ruin it myself,” Harry said with a smile, though there was still a hint of smug satisfaction._

_Louis sighed dramatically loud and let Harry do whatever he wanted; he was too drunk to care if the artist wanted to fix his hair for him. Plus, it was nice to feel someone else’s fingers combing his hair, he loved that. So he closed his eyes._

_Another minute passed before Harry stepped back with a small smile, seeming happy with the result, “Done. I must say, I should’ve pursued a career in hairstyling.”_

_Louis snorted at that, opening his eyes to look at Harry lazily staring at his hair, a hint of something else in his eyes. “That would be hilarious._ ‘Who’s your hairstylist? Oh, his name’s Harry Styles, who styles hair. _’ I would actually pay you money to change careers.”_

_Harry didn’t do anything for a second, just stared at Louis, but he didn’t look weirded out, just happy. Louis was very confused. Then he giggled, “Now I really want to be a hairstylist,” Was all he said in response._

_Louis scoffed and walked to the mirror and then faced his perfectly styled hair, which looked even nicer than when he’d come into the party hours ago. “Hmm, not bad. Thank you.”_

_“No problem.”_

_So, Louis awkwardly turned around and stared at Harry just standing there. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Thanks for the handjob, have a nice life’?_

_“I better go, Liam, might be looking for me,” He said instead, pointing to the door with his thumb._

_Harry nodded with wide eyes like he realized they couldn’t just stand there and look at each other from the corner of the room. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, of course,” He said, before he watched Louis head straight for the door, “Wait.”_

_Louis stopped right before turning the door handle and raised an eyebrow at him, “Yes?”_

_“Could I have your number,” Harry said confidently, walking over to Louis with his towering height. “So, we can maybe do this again sometime.”_

_Louis considered this for a moment. Tonight had been about being reckless, about doing things he would’ve never done a few months ago. It’d been about proving to himself that he wasn’t broken. Leo hadn’t scarred him or fucked him up._

_But, giving Harry his number extended from tonight, it meant he would have to interact with him in plain daylight, away from alcohol, and while Louis could be doing mundane things, like grocery shopping or picking up his dry-cleaners. It meant opening himself up to the possibility that Harry wanted something more. Louis wasn’t ready for that. He had a long way to go. He wasn’t ready. He’d just been saved from his last love._

_“I know I’ve been kind of a prick tonight,” Louis started, looking sincerely up at Harry, “but right now, I’m just absolutely honest. It’s nothing personal, but maybe sometime in the future if we see each other again, I’ll give you my number, yeah? Tonight’s not right. At least not yet, doesn’t mean something will or won’t happen,” Louis said, feeling bad because up until now they’d only been about pure banter, nothing actually hurtful or hateful had been going on between them. “Is that okay?” He asked uncertainly. After all, he didn’t know Harry very well; he could have little patience._

_Harry seemed to also process and consider Louis’ words before he nodded with a serious expression, “I understand, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll meet again. Gemma is a racer after all,” Harry chuckled, placing his hands in his pockets._

_Louis couldn’t explain it, but Harry seemed like the type of person who would never be embarrassed or thrown by any social convention. He seemed bubbly and carefree enough to not take rejection to heart. Louis appreciated that. Nothing else. Just that._

_“Thanks for understanding,” Louis said bashfully. He quickly proceeded to open the bathroom door and walk out, breathing in the fresher and colder air, letting his mind be rid of all thoughts from Harry Styles._

Since that night, Louis hadn’t heard from Harry; a year ago now. But, he’d seen a few headlines, some saying he was taking up residence in California, working for some art business, while others said he was filming a movie for Christopher Nolan. Louis hadn’t really taken the time to read any of them. He’d been fine ignoring the existence of Harry and forgetting about the night at the ball, at ease after a whole year not seeing him again.

But, letting his thoughts dissipate, he could only hope the rumors about Gemma joining Formula 1 were true. There was an official announcement due that same morning regarding the new racer’s incorporation into the Mercedes team, and if it was Gemma Styles, the racing world was about to have its world turned upside down. It was about bloody time. 

For now, he watched Liam zoom quickly across the Catalunya Circuit and heard the roaring engine of the Ferrari car like a reassuring lullaby.

+

“It’s bloody fantastic,” Liam said as he removed his helmet. His face was flushed.

“That good?”

“Mate,” Liam said a bit breathless and widened his eyes, “Oh, you’re not ready.”

“Fuck,” Louis said and looked back at the car, the tyres now so run down they didn’t look remotely similar to what they’d been thirty minutes before. 

“Lacasa and Chevalier had pretty good times,” Liam noted, looking at the screens. Someone handed him a bottle of water, and he chugged it down.

“But they still didn’t beat yours,” Louis slapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder, and Liam’s cheeks reddened. An F1 racer and champion and he still blushed when anyone complimented his driving.

Liam had passed Chevalier’s best time with a second at the 60th lap, and to be sure, he’d done an even faster one, beating his own time by one more second on the 100th lap. Louis now had to beat Liam’s time if no one else beats it by the afternoon testing. 

“Payno, Zayn called me, said I had to congratulate you, and kiss you so,” Niall paused and smacked a loud kiss on his cheek, making Liam yelp in surprise. Niall pulled away and walked back to the screens as if nothing had happened.

“Eyes on the screen, it’s the big announcement,” Ben suddenly said from the headsets and to everyone on the pit box. The T.V.’s volume was suddenly pulled all the way up when a commentator for FOX Sports began talking about Mercedes’ new teammate.

“-We all feel the excitement at the revealing of the new driver for Mercedes-Benz, as Sharp’s retirement last year left a spot open in the race for this year of 2020. It’s been a few months since speculation started on a few household names, as well as a few new-comers in Formula 2, but,” The commentator paused as he seemed to be listening on his earpiece. He smiled tinily and nodded, “-it seems that we now have the name for the newest Formula 1 driver of this year’s Mercedes-Benz team, and it’s a great one. This year’s final driver on the Formula 1 track is United Kingdom’s Gemma Styles! She’s 27 years old and this, ladies and gentlemen, has been a long time coming for women’s racing all over the world-”

Louis immediately jumped at the name announcement, and Liam squeezed his shoulder tight. “Holy shit!” Someone said somewhere over the TV’s sound, and claps were heard from every pit box on the track. Louis didn’t take his eyes off the TV as some technicians commented amongst themselves, nobody annoyed, just excited.

“-we will now go to Alex in Barcelona on the Circuit de Catalunya where he’s accompanied by Styles, ready to hear what he has to say on this year’s newest recruit,” The commentator winked and the screen was suddenly cut to the reporter, Alex, standing with a mic in front this year’s Mercedes race car. He was smiling, and a second passed before he began talking, “Yes, Michael, this year’s last recruit is _definitely_ great, and as we speak, the lady herself is with me right now. Hello Gemma, how are you today, after this historic announcement?”

The take was widened, and Gemma was suddenly in the shot. She was wearing her Mercedes race suit, and her hair was up in a ponytail. She was smiling softly, not showing teeth but subtle enough that it looked professional for the cameras. 

“Hi Alex, I’m good, yeah, I’m extremely excited! This is a major, _major_ milestone for women everywhere, and I’m incredibly honored to be the one here to bear the torch. This, of course, is the result of many strong, and awesome women in my team, and life, who’ve supported me through every single race, lesson, win, and loss. I wouldn’t be here without them, so today really is a celebration for every girl and woman who’s ever wanted to be the one inside the Formula 1 race car. It’s definitely a step forward, and I can’t wait to see how this year’s races unravel,” Gemma said with a certain lilt of breathlessness that truly showed how happy she was.

“We can’t wait for either Gemma. This is a historic time for the racing community, as well as for women’s history, no doubt. I can tell you, on behalf of every racing fan out there, we’re thrilled to see your performance and growth on the field, and wish you and Mercedes all the best of luck.”

The interview finished, and afterward came an array of interviews for the Team principal in Mercedes, and for Antonio Lacasa, who expressed how excited he was to share the field with Gemma. Louis couldn’t seem to tear his attention from the fact that Gemma Styles was in the race; she was in bloody _Formula 1._

Louis wanted to find her, but Niall commented she’d probably be flooded with interviews all morning. News outlets were everywhere, and Louis could imagine how they’d all raced to the Mercedes pit lane once the announcement was made. 

“Mate, this is awesome. My mum is going to be ecstatic, she’s always wanted to root for female racers,” Liam said to him, and Louis nodded.

“All my sisters are going to stop coming for me; I bet on it. They will be screaming for Gemma,” Louis said and looked at the screen where Gemma’s interview and official photo where being replayed as the commentators for F1 talked about her. 

The T.V. was suddenly shut off, and Louis was left staring at his reflection on the black surface of the screen.

+

The morning went by in a blur, and before Louis knew it, him, Liam, Niall, and the rest of the team were heading to the make-shift cafeteria on the side of the track. It was a giant tent with a buffet and endless tables, each team's logos on them, though many of the drivers were mixed and chatting with their rivals. They were really only bitter and rude once the green light went off.

When Louis did a quick scan of the place, he spotted Gemma, wearing the official Mercedes jacket, and chatting with Italian driver, Luca Maio from the McLaren team. Her eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but she was laughing at something Luca had said, and Louis moved around the tables toward where she was at the far corner. 

“Louis!” Gemma said as soon as she spotted him rounding the last table. 

“Gemma, hi!” Louis said equally as happy to see her. He and Gemma hugged, and Louis spoke so only she could hear. “Congratulations! I’m so proud love; this is going to be a great season,” Louis said and then pulled from their hug.

Gemma smiled a soft smile that looked too much like Harry’s own, dimples and all, “Thank you, I’m excited. It’s been like a year since I saw you,” Gemma said.

Louis felt his stomach do a summersault, his pulse picking up infinitesimally, he breathed. Reminded himself, she couldn’t know what had happened. He doubted Harry had told her. “It has yeah, are you nervous, though? I imagine it’s been insane,” He said because he wasn’t keen on sticking to the subject of the ball.

“It has. I’m not too nervous, more excited to just drive. I’ve been going to meetings all year I’m ready to get to work,” She said, and she looked as excited as she sounded. It made Louis reminisce of his own time when he first started out.

“When are you testing? I’m on from two till three.”

“Oh, I think I’m on in like, ten minutes, so we’ll meet on the track at half time.”

“Let’s see who can beat Payne’s time then,” Louis said and winked. Gemma laughed softly, and after more small-talk, excused herself to get ready to drive. 

Once she’d left, the whole tent began whispering. It didn’t seem mean-spirited, just people asking questions and sharing details about the new racer. Louis prepared himself a salad with lemonade before he approached the TV screens near the Ferrari table. He sat down once he had the right angle to see Gemma’s laps, and Niall was the first to speak. 

“What did she say? How do you even know her?” Niall asked with intrigue, feasting on some chicken wings and large fries, a few dips here and there, and a salad on the side of his giant plate. Niall’s stomach was a black hole. 

“Met her at a charity thing a year ago,” Louis said off-handedly, and ate some salad, checking out the body of Mercedes’ car as the TV showed some close-up shots. 

“I haven’t seen her drive lately, is she as good as they say?” Liam asked distractedly. He seemed invested in a conversation with Zayn, typing a reply every few seconds. He was frowning but not really— just looked like he was concentrating really hard.

“I have. She’s fast and sneaky. Never know, though— it’s all about how she reacts under the pressure of crashing, and how she handles it. The trickiest part for rookies is weather and city circuit,” Louis said, and Niall nodded, eating his chicken wings. Liam didn’t acknowledge them, just kept on his phone.

“I think she’s starting,” Niall said, covering his mouth to speak, and most of the drivers and technicians looked at the different screens— curiosity was palpable in the room. 

“The car’s form looks good, and the paint job’s neat,” Liam commented, also off his phone as he looked at the screens. 

Louis hummed in agreement. Gemma took off from pits, and from there, she handled the car with practiced ease. She was agile in corners, she was fast in DRS zones, and she knew what patches of grass gripped her wheels best. That sort of technique came from ingenuity, and she seemed to possess loads. He reckoned Gemma would be alright and a mean threat later on.

Louis felt he’d seen enough by the tenth lap, and excused himself back to his changing room.

Once inside the cramped space, Louis let himself sit and go over the track layout a few times. He did his own warm-up, stretched every muscle, and did a few breathing exercises. Niall then tapped his door three times to let him know his time was almost about to start.

Once he was fully dressed in his racing suit, he let Niall finish zipping and closing him up. It wasn’t hot in Spain at all. Winter testing was its given name because normally they tested in February when the weather was at its coldest, and Spain was no exception.

Once Niall left to check the screens outside, he put on his earpieces, all new and ready for the start of the season. God, Louis, loved his job. 

_Then a voice cut through his inner dialogue like a hot knife through butter._

“Long time no see, 28,” The raspy voice said from behind him, and Louis immediately turned, a chill running up his spine. He knew who it was. It was karma, coming to bite him in the ass.

“ _Styles_ ,” Louis said faintly, feeling like he’d been emotionally slapped in the face. How was it that one second he was perfectly fine and excited, and the next, he was dangerously close to fainting? “What are you doing here?” And he knew the answer, but he also needed to ask, no, demand why, why now? Why. 

“Giving myself a personal tour of the grounds,” Harry Styles said while pointedly looking him up and down, “what are you doing here?” He asked, confused. 

Louis stared, his eyes still wide. He believed one was twitching. He knew exactly why Louis was there. The asshole. Also, he was wearing a pair of flared blue jeans, and a cream Gucci polo, his shoes white moccasins. He looked… _good._ He even had some facial hair. Everything was not okay anymore. Why was he here?

“W- I race, you know that!” Louis said perplexed. He knew his emotions stemmed from the fact that Harry had just materialized out of nowhere after a whole year of seeing him, and he looked unfairly good. He was no longer gangly or pale looking— instead, he was incredibly muscular with giant biceps, a wonderful tan, and he even seemed taller. 

Louis could not handle this right now. He had to drive for an hour right after this. He could even see a peek of Harry’s chest, which looked carved out of marble. He didn’t know what to do with that information. Why wasn’t he somewhere remote filming a movie or living in Asia?

_“_ Well, that uniform does wonders for your ass,” Harry complimented loudly. 

Louis struggled to remain calm. _What was happening?_

“W- Styles, you have to leave before the photographers come in here!” Louis said flustered, spotting a few men with Press passes around their necks and gigantic cameras at their side. “I don’t need press scandals so early in the season,” He grabbed Harry’s shoulders without second-guessing himself, just blindly trying to make him physically disappear. Like stuffing a jack-in-the-box back in the box. He tried turning him toward the door at the back, but Harry didn’t even budge at Louis’ whole upper body strength.

“A scandal, you say? Hm, I’m thinking how the British media would read this one,” He said and ran a hand through the air, “‘Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, is something going on?’ No, something cheesier like, ‘Formula He’s The One: Are the racer and artist dating?’ Got to love the gossip,” Harry said, amused. 

“How are you here? Is this because of a year ago? Did you plan this as a comeback because of…?” Louis questioned in a weak trail. 

He could feel his pulse quickening, the blood in his ears pounding louder, and there was a second where he felt his lungs completely lost oxygen like the room had been vacuumed of air. He was not about to have a panic attack in front of this man. He refused to.

“What?” Harry asked, looking alarmed and confused all of a sudden. Louis couldn’t blame him. “I didn’t,” Harry said quickly, looking more serious, seeming to realize Louis was actually freaking out. He frowned as he stared at Louis’ face with earnest eyes, “I didn’t,” He repeated. “I’m going to be on the tour of the GPs for Gemma,” He said like it was obvious.

Then Louis’ heart dropped to the floor, and a rapid succession of thoughts swirled too fast in his head. _Fucking shit, fuck._ He could already see himself being the weakest human being, having to look at gorgeous artist Harry Styles for a whole bleeding year, and force himself to look away every single time. How the _fuck_ was he ever going to win a single Grand Prix with this bloody piece of work every-fucking-where just existing. _How?_

“O-okay, I don’t know how I was supposed to know that, but you should go before some photographer catches you here. They’re ruthless here, they’re going to link us immediately,” Louis pleaded in warning, pushing at Harry’s shoulders again, trying to make him turn. 

This time Harry complied, letting Louis lead him to the bright red back door, hidden from view by giant panels. As Louis pushed his back with all his strength, Harry looked back at Louis over his shoulder.

“28, you can’t drive like this. You’re freaking out,” Harry said, his profile frowning, still concerned. Louis wasn’t listening, he just needed an hour to process Harry’s sudden reappearance, and then question him brutally about everything later. He just needed his car, so he could drive for a whole hour and flush every bit of panic from his mind. He needed to cleanse himself.

“D-don’t worry about me Styles, just go and don’t come back. We’ll talk later,” Louis said through his teeth, still using his strength to get Harry to walk out. 

When they reached the swinging doors, Harry immediately stopped and turned, making Louis almost fall flat on his face, except he caught himself before he could trip. He looked down at him with soft eyes, too alike the ones from that night a year ago. It wasn’t good. This was all wrong. This was supposed to be his bloody year. 

“It would be okay by me, you know?”

“What?” Louis asked, absolutely lost.

“It would be okay if they linked us in the paper. I know how ruffled your feathers would get by that,” Harry then smirked, then quickly stepped out of the door’s way before Louis could push them on his face.

_“Tomlinson!”_ Ben called from the outside, his voice overly loud to make it through the roar of the car engine. 

“You won’t ruffle any feathers, but keep dreaming,” Louis bit back with finality. He stayed to watch Harry’s face turn to a mildly amused expression from the other side of the door that was still swinging back and forth.

“Perfect view,” Harry yelled back, and Louis didn’t turn around and continue the conversation. He had shit to do.

He had to flush Harry out of his mind, _immediately. Everything had to go._

Louis had been in good spirits all morning. That conscience of his had to go and think something had to go wrong for everything to crumble around him. He’d rid himself of the thought instantly, but a part of him, deep inside, knew Gemma was Harry’s sister, and he was bound to appear at some point.

_He just didn’t know it would be the first fucking day of the new season._

Now, Harry had had simply materialized next to Louis before he was supposed to drive the first lap of the year, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to.

Maybe, with a little bit of luck, the chaos of the first lap would take his head right off him.

_So,_ Louis made his way outside, and immediately he breathed in the panic and commands being shouted by all the staff and members through his earpiece. Sweet sound of anxiety, oh, how I’ve missed thee. 

Mechanics with helmets and their own red suits were quickly running around the car as Louis climbed in. Once he was safely secured in his seat, he was handed his gloves and helmet. 

Tyre warmers removed, he gave Ben a thumbs up, and he was immediately moved into his take-off position. Let’s fucking go.

“Testing, testing to box.”

“Loud and clear Louis, all systems checked, you’re ready to go.”

Louis felt that familiar warmth twist intensely in his gut, and he knew this was the sweetest remedy to anything life threw his way. This was the one thing he could do right, and nobody could take it away from him. He’d learned that the hard way.

“Best words I’ve heard today. Let’s do this,” Louis said, and once he was perfectly placed on the exit, he didn’t hesitate to start driving. He didn’t stop for photographers because he reckoned they’d already taken enough pictures in the morning. 

On the track, he was seeding so fast everything around him went blurry, Louis could feel his chest constrict with the pressure of the air going around him— and he loved it. He’d missed the feeling of breathlessness in the first ten laps, and the satisfying burn in his gut whenever his corners were executed perfectly. He couldn’t compare this feeling with anything else in the entire world. 

“Woo!” Louis cheered once he was properly settled in the car and driving his fifth lap around the circuit. 

“Drives like a beauty,” Ben said into his earpiece.

“Benny, it’s beautiful. A bloody masterpiece.”

At thirty laps, Louis decided to try and beat Gemma’s fastest lap, “I’m going for it.”

“Ready,” Ben replied.

Louis immediately sped up as soon as he passed the starting line. He went fast with his DRS into Turns 1 and 2, quickly entering another DRS zone after those. He took advantage of the increased speed, and once Turn three came up, he feathered gradually on the breaks. It was a tight corner, so control was the key. 4 threw him almost immediately into five and then into six right after. 

7 and 8 were equally as fast as the first two, so Louis repeated the same pattern from before.

Ben was constantly narrating his times in his ear. Louis made sure to listen and concentrate on the rest of the turns, never missing a perfect apex. Turn 15 was the tightest and hardest, but once he overcame the corner, he was flying down the rest of the circuit in a blur of red. 

“You beat it by three seconds, Tommo,” Niall suddenly said into the intercom. There were lots of cheers from the team, and Louis cheered from his mic too. As he passed by the pits, he could see the red crew waving at him in congratulations.

“Louis, you set the new record, first day, and we’re back, baby!” Ben announced in his ear, and it felt like sweet relief. All his troubles and problems faded into fading images. He was back.

“Yes!” Louis yelled. There were cameras all on his car now, and he could see some of them as he went into the track again. 

For the rest of the week, other drivers would attempt to beat Louis’s current time, but for now, Louis felt a million miles in the air, and he felt his body get lighter with every minute. 

The good thing about pre-testing was that crashes weren’t the end of the world— and they did happen quite regularly since most of the cars were still essentially prototypes being tested before the official races. Liam’s car spun once as he was doing a corner, but so did Lacasa’s and Chevalier’s. Thankfully the first day hadn’t seen any of the cars destroyed or battered up, almost everyone managing to stay in the track and never hitting gravel. It counted as a good day all in all.

Once he’d done twenty more laps, Ben suggested him to box.

“Louis buddy, amazing job,” Ben said once he’d properly turned off the car. He hugged him tight and let go when Liam and Niall slapped his helmet, still on his head, and fisted his overalls in excitement.

“New bloody record, that’s amazing Lou,” Liam said, all smiles, not a hint of jealousy or resentment. He hugged Louis too, and Niall squeezed them both in excitement. “I’m so proud of you two.” 

Louis couldn’t help but think, ‘ _We’re fucking back.’_

+

After Louis answered all his siblings’ texts and talked to his mum for a bit, Ben made sure to remind Liam and Louis that Ferrari had their cars ready in the hotel parking lot. Ferrari was giving them each a car like the ones they had at home. Louis would get a 2021 GTC4Lusso and Liam a 2020 Portofino. Liam adored his car; he’d even taken the time to name it Bill.

Louis felt jittery despite all the driving he’d done. He felt like he had an itch he couldn’t scratch, but he was too proud to admit Harry left a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, just where he couldn’t reach.

Louis was glad Gemma made Formula 1. But, he also felt a horrible ball of guilt in his gut when he couldn’t help but think that along with Gemma’s fantastic news, there had to be Harry in the way of everything. Louis didn’t have time for unsolicited feelings. He was expected to win this championship. He was hairs away from becoming the most successful racer. His whole team, nay, the whole world was ready to see him succeed to the finish line of the last Grand Prix. There were big plans ahead of him. 

It seemed like all it took was for a pretty, kind, and funny man to come along and shatter all that. 

His plan was all laid out: Break more records, fulfill his contract with Ferrari, buy a house somewhere quiet— then never use it because he’d be too busy driving again next year, and he was decided on going through with it. No, Harry Styles was not going to step in the way.

So, Louis devised a secondary plan for his primary one. 

He would ignore Harry, not let Harry distract him from his goals, and definitely not let him get to his head. It was simple, and it was definitely going to work. Yes.

“Tommo come on; it’s your turn at interviews.”

Yeah, it was definitely going to work.


	2. II

Louis’ hotel phone rang at 7 p.m. only four hours since he’d left the track.

“Hello?”

“Hey, are you busy tonight?” Liam asked.

“Uh, Liam, why are you calling through here and not my cell?”

“Cause I’ve never used these phones to talk to anyone that wasn’t room service, and my cell’s too far away.”

Louis hummed, “No, I don’t think I have anything planned, why?”

“So, Harry Styles? He called me to invite us both to dinner downstairs with him and Gemma. I don’t know if you remember? He was the bloke from that party a year ago. He’s sort of friends with Zayn, so he got my number from him. He insisted on me telling you he would’ve texted directly, but he didn’t have your number,” Liam’s thick accent sounded warped by the telephone. Louis let his hand go over his forehead, soothing the incoming headache. “He says ‘tonight in an hour.’”

Of course. Harry was sending him a coded message. He didn’t bloody well _know_ what he was trying to say, but Louis knew Harry was trying to push his buttons, make him lose his cool. That man was trying to play mind tricks on him, but Louis wasn’t going to fall for anything.

“Sure, I’ll be down in an hour then,” He gritted out. 

“Ace, I’ll tell him. See you mate.”

Louis was left staring at his partially lit room. A corny picture of Barcelona hung at the far wall by the bathroom door, and Louis stared at it until his eyes went cross. After checking his phone for any new messages, he replied to his family group chat, where all his sisters and mum and grandma had congratulated him again.

He took a quick shower then listened to Steely Dan after shaving and doing his hair. 

He debated whether to dress nice or casual. On the one hand, dressing nice would imply he was trying at all. He didn’t want to seem enthusiastic about Harry’s dinner, but on the other hand, he wanted to look nice; cleaned up. Casual was a pair of jeans, a graphic tee. Nice was a navy blue button-up with black pants and black dress shoes. He decided on black jeans and the navy shirt, hair slightly styled. Best of both worlds. 

Zayn and Lottie would keel over.

By 8 p.m., he was ready and on the elevator down to the lobby. He was on the top floor. The numbers counted down fast, so he steeled himself to face the music. He could do it. Pretend he hadn’t given Harry a deluxe blowjob in a fancy bathroom. He could pretend he hadn’t salivated over those billboards of Harry all over London. He could pretend he hadn’t stared at Harry’s abs or toned v-lines barely covered by a white sheet. He was posing for a Gucci _fragrance_ then. 

Louis sighed loudly because he was alone until the elevator stopped on the sixth floor, and in came the one and only Harry Styles. 

Fuck it; the universe was definitely against him.

He was dressed in incredibly flared black pants, which went from the middle of his stomach to the floor and got increasingly wider as they went down. It was a lot of fabric. He had a simple black shirt, and his nails were perfectly manicured and painted black, each of his fingers had a different ring, and two of them were his own initials. HS in gold. He looked so pretty Louis wanted to cry and run away. 

He had a bloody Gucci purse, and he walked into the elevator like he owned the world. Louis was sure if anybody else did what Harry did, they would look like twats. It only worked for him.

“Good evening sir,” Harry said casually as if he’d already known Louis was coming down at that exact moment. He’d probably also noticed Louis had been checking him out.He wasn’t about to feel embarrassed, though. Harry’s own eyes were very noticeably going up and down his body shamelessly.

“Styles, do you ever talk like a normal human?”

“Not usually, no.”

“I know what you’re doing. It’s not going to work,” Louis said quietly at him although there was nobody else in the elevator with them. 

“Oh?” Harry asked, raising a curious brow.

“You want to throw me off, so I get distracted and lose the races. Not a chance,” Louis said, looking at the steel doors and praying they opened fast. He could feel Harry’s burning eyes on him. He didn’t think those were Harry’s intentions, but he needed anything to make Harry feel repulsed and insulted by Louis, or at least get annoyed enough to be distracted by somebody else.

Louis’s hopes vanished because Harry laughed, full-on laughed at that, and took a moment to calm himself down, “Oh my god, do you really think that?”  


Louis frowned in confusion at him, breaking one of his rules to at least avoid eye-contact with Harry throughout the whole night. “Well, why else would you blatantly hit on me if not to bother or distract me?”

Harry let his jaw dramatically fall, and he put a hand on the banister of the elevator, leaning his whole body weight to the side and putting his other hand on his hip, looking like he was about to make a very obvious point, “Look, when someone hits on you it’s because they _like_ you. I don’t have any ulterior motive. What the hell do you think I am? A bloody supervillain in a film? I just like you 28, jeez,” Harry said with a corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided smirk. Then, his eyes darkened, and he wasn’t so amused, more sensual—lust-filled eyes, “Plus, you should see yourself when you experience pure pleasure,” He said, “It puts the gods to shame.”

Louis was sure the world stopped spinning. _It must have._

“You’re doing it again!” Louis said hysterically, looking back at the steel doors in panic. Harry could not _say_ those things and mean them. He was definitely executing an evil plan to make Louis have the worst season of his career. There was no other explanation.

“I’m not doing anything, I’m just minding my business,” Harry said, putting his hands up in surrender, amused.

Louis breathed deeply through his nose and tried to let the blood in his cheeks dissipate, but he knew that wouldn’t work, not with Harry’s shining presence so close to him. 

“Is it so hard to believe someone likes you, 28?”

“You’re very forward. It’s unattractive,” Louis criticized quickly with a snobby sniff.

“I have no shame, too, so you’re in for a ride.”

“Just shut up,” Louis pleaded desperately. He needed to _get away from him._

The elevator doors slid open, and not a second later, he was out and walking fast, away from Harry. The artist just followed suit, walking easily beside him with his long deer legs that reached a lot further than Louis.’ 

_Stop blushing, right the fuck now._

“Anyway, my sister is a great racer, so she really doesn’t need me going around and distracting her competition. I knew who you were when we met at the ball-”

“-Less met, more I-sobered-you-up.”

“-and I was just delighted to finally meet you. I didn’t think you’d be just as pretty in real life as you were on the telly, but here we are,” Harry said and smiled down at Louis because yes he was irritatingly taller than him, and it made Louis want to punch Harry so they would be the same height, “A little more annoying though,” He added, but he didn’t look like he truly meant it, which somehow frustrated Louis even more.

“I will not respond to anything you say from now on,” Louis retorted and lifted his hand, showing Harry his palm as he walked even faster to get away from him. 

He had a lot of processing to do, and he wasn’t about to do it then. He would have dinner, maybe some wine, ignore Harry, and have fun with the rest of his friends. He wouldn’t think about what Harry said later. He would not. 

“Reservation for Gemma Styles,” Harry told the hostess at the entrance of the restaurant, a charming all-teeth smile, and dimples in perfect display. 

“Of course,” The hostess looked a bit starstruck at Louis and Harry, but she kept her composure, checking her iPad before gesturing for them to follow a waiter waiting inside, “Right this way.”

“Thank you,” Harry said and made solid eye-contact with the hostess, showing his manners plainly.

As they walked into the restaurant, some people looked up from their plates and pointed at the two of them, but most of them kept eating and didn’t pay them any mind.

“H, Louis, over here,” Gemma’s voice called softly somewhere over the waiter’s shoulder, and Louis spotted them both sitting at a round table, the only two free seats together, side by side. So much for steering clear of Harry.

“Hi Gems, you look lovely tonight,” Louis said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Gemma thanked him and smiled warmly. Niall and Liam patted him on the shoulder, and then they both shook Harry’s hand, exchanging nice-to-meet-you’s. All of them settling as Harry said something to his sister in a quiet voice, placing his napkin on his lap and moving his chair into the table. 

They started off slowly. Some small-talk, catching up with everyone and laughing for a bit about embarrassing track stories. A waiter then approached the table and got their orders swiftly on the way. 

Harry was all pleasantries and charming smiles with everyone, making Niall laugh, and complimenting Liam’s driving, mentioning he’d seen his laps from the bleachers. It made Louis briefly wonder if Harry had been nearby when Louis’d been watching Liam earlier that day.

“Louis, I think you performed magnificently today in the track too, you set a high bar,” Harry complimented like none of their previous conversations had ever happened. Louis also had to note that it was probably the first time he’d ever heard Harry address him by his name. It did a strange thing to Louis’ stomach. He ignored it.

Niall nodded smugly, “You should leave some for the rest of the teams.”

Louis chuckled tightly. He eyed Harry, “I think the rest can easily catch up to me, it’s about getting used to the track and memorizing different things about the corners,” He was looking straight at Harry with an expression that showed he wasn’t about to play his game.

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, but he didn’t look displeased, in fact, he looked like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, which— okay, Louis, don’t kill him.

“All my fine work, of course,” Niall chimed in, oblivious. 

Their waiter arrived with their orders not too long after that. Harry went on to talk about some shows he’d done in Milan and Paris last year before he casually mentioned that he’d canceled his world tour for the whole year. Louis stopped playing with the corner of his cloth napkin.

“What?!” Niall exclaimed.

“I’ve done it, yeah,” Harry said to him with a nod and lips tight at the corners. Tense.

“What do you mean?” Niall asked in disbelief. Louis echoed his sentiment.

Harry seemed reluctant to stay on the subject. Louis had to admit that even he was intrigued. 

This was Harry, _Harry Styles,_ to the world; his art was constantly being displayed at MoMA. Art critics bowed at his feet. He was an artist who _acted_ for god’s sake. He was on every magazine cover; people would book tickets months— nay, even a year in advance just to see him. Louis had seen countless television ads of his fancy shows. His work was on the side of buses. He modeled for Gucci, and every other company ate him up. He had the personality and face to do SNL without looking out of place (not that Louis had sat down to watch the episode he hosted, he hated TV). He had the balls to start his acting career with Christopher bloody Nolan. He was fearless, charismatic, and he was always doing something interesting. Something unique, never seen before. The crowds swooned with him. 

“I’ve done this for almost seven years,” Harry explained, and he sounded like he’d rehearsed this speech a few times, “I sold my first sculpture when I was sixteen, and I never stopped. I did more than three hundred shows in the last year. By the end of last year, I began to feel like I’d burned out any creativity I had left. I realized I had to stop and give myself time to build new art from the ground up. At some point, it just stopped feeling genuine,” Harry said quietly. He sounded like he was ready to defend his choice like people had already argued with him about it. Louis wondered which people had.

“It’s brave to make a decision like that,” Niall said, looking proud. Count on him to know exactly what to say. 

“That’s actually a big chance. I’m sure it’ll be good for you, mate,” Liam added, seeming to be tasting Harry’s plan and liking it. He nodded in agreement. 

Louis gulped, “Taking a huge leap like that can be scary. I’m glad you had the courage to do it,” His chest twinged when he said it, and Liam looked discreetly at him from across the table. His mouth was pursed in a sad curve, but he bowed his head at his best friend, and Louis couldn’t help the small smile he returned to his best friend.

Harry’s cheeks reddened immediately. Louis had to blink a few times to be sure he didn’t see things. Harry didn’t blush. Things rarely made him feel embarrassed or self-conscious. Louis reckoned it was all the compliments. Nothing to do with him. Louis’ own cheeks reddened.

After they passed the topic, they slowly went back to easier conversations that seemed to loosen Harry back up. They drank their glasses of wine (Harry drank water— and while Louis wanted to say he hadn’t noticed, he had) and gossiped about other drivers and their lives. 

Louis was sure those were the topics where Harry was going to get lost. Instead, he immediately commented when Niall mentioned Alfa Romeo’s Marc Dubos. Harry whispered he’d seen Dubos at one of his charity events, hiding out. He’d apparently been snogging a model at the back of the stage. Marc was engaged to be married then and still was today. 

Louis couldn’t believe how much dirt they all had until each person on the table spilled something. Even Liam, ever the do-gooder, shared what Zayn once told him. 

“Luca Maio supposedly got a DUI a few months ago. The board threatened to disqualify him. Now, they do _weekly_ checkups with him, to see he’s stayed sober since then. But, it’s all hushed because they don’t want people lynching the FIA. Again,” Liam said quietly, weary that other people might know who he was talking about. 

Niall whistled softly, and Gemma let her jaw hang open. Harry was quieter. He didn’t react the same as he did with all the other confessions. He didn’t show any particular reaction, which was odd. He just breathed loudly and squirmed in his seat until he was in a completely different position, legs crossed, and hands pressed under his thighs like he was fighting his own body. He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“I don’t think I have any dirt on anyone,” Louis commented, focus still partially on the man beside him. He pursed his lips. Then his eyes widened, “Wait, I know. The real reason Omero Arno retired racing last year was because he wanted to start a bakery,” Louis smiled, and the whole table collectively groaned disappointedly.

“Tommo, that’s not _dirt_ , that’s adorable news,” Niall reproached, and Gemma nodded. 

The moment was over in a second when Liam started talking about a race. A few years back, he was convinced someone on the Racing Point team had cheated with their car and added boosters and brake assistants, but Louis felt Liam’s voice fading away, his focus gradually shifting toward the tall man beside him.

Harry wouldn’t stop fussing about in his seat, checking his phone every few minutes and frowning. His hands kept twitching, and he tried to divert his energy by raking his ringed fingers through his short hair time and time again. His leg was bouncing, and he’d gone quiet about ten minutes prior. He was looking around the restaurant, his eyes moving fast as he skimmed over the people and their faces, then back down to his phone without nobody else on the table noticing his behavior. He seemed sort of worried. Louis frowned, attempting to be subtle with his eyes. He did not want to attract any sort of attention toward Harry or himself.

It was a jarring contrast from the carefree, confident man he knew so far, this version of Harry seemed anxious and ready to engage his flight or fight instinct. A polar opposite of everything he usually was. Layer after layer left him a little more breathless. Louis could stop breathing by the time he got to the artist’s core. 

Gemma didn’t seem too aware of Harry’s current dilemma, eagerly nodding at Liam’s exaggerated gesticulations, telling the story about his most infamous crash, then another about some prank a pair of fans played on them in Australia. 

But, Harry was bordering on anxious. He would bring his hand up to his mouth and bite on the tip of his nail, his face pretending to listen to the stories they were telling for a brief period of time. Louis watched him enough to tell he wasn’t reacting properly to anything. If they laughed, he would chuckle, then look away, distracted again. His phone lit up for the third time with a text.

Louis was seconds from saying something to him, quietly, when Harry abruptly stood up from his chair in the middle of Liam’s story and excused himself to the bathroom, eyes still on his screen. No one reacted as he walked away. His gait almost a sprint as he headed to the back of the restaurant, and finally disappeared from view. 

About five minutes passed before Louis felt a tugging feeling to go see what was wrong with Harry. Gemma was now talking about a terrible fight she had with another driver in F2.

“Keep going, I’m just going to check Harry’s alright and wash up,” Louis cut in, and Gemma nodded as she kept on with her story, Liam and Niall listening intently, completely unaware of everything.

Louis walked the same way Harry did and found himself at the bathroom door. He swung it open and immediately looked around to find Harry. At first glance, it wasn’t visible, but Harry’s extremely flared pants weren’t hard to miss, and Louis was relieved when he saw there was nobody else in the loo but the two of them. 

Harry was in a stall at the end of the wall. It was easy to tell he wasn’t doing anything, he was pacing in the small space, and his deep voice traveled weakly across the giant bathroom. 

“- _It’s so complicated,_ ” Harry said stressfully, and Louis could only guess he was talking on the phone then. “ _It wasn’t any easier before, but maybe this wasn’t a good idea_.”

A pause let Louis know he was listening to whoever was on the phone with him. It immediately made Louis incredibly uncomfortable. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He was eavesdropping very plainly, and he never did this. He didn’t want Harry to think he was spying on him or anything. 

“ _It’s gotten so hard lately. I feel like-_ ,” Harry paused, so quietly it almost disappeared in the air around the room. “Yeah,” He said then. 

Louis’ stomach turned fast. What did that mean? What could be causing Harry such mental anguish? He was silent for a few seconds as he listened to the person again.

“ _I don’t want Gemma to worry right now. I have to go. I’ll call you later,_ ” Harry then said, and Louis scrambled to go to the door and at least swing it open, so it looked like he was just coming in. He called Harry’s name as the lock of the stall opened.

Harry walked out, and his eyes went straight to Louis by the door, his eyebrows rising in surprise, but he didn’t seem pissed. He didn’t know Louis had listened to the last portion of his conversation. 

“Did Gemma send you in here?” He asked suddenly, looking worried.

“Oh, no, no. I just saw you leave so fast. I thought something might’ve happened,” Louis said, still standing by the door feeling like a complete nutcase.“You… okay?” Louis asked, not really looking at Harry. He was feeling dumber by the second. 

“I am, just needed a minute to myself,” Harry said quietly to Louis, for the first time ever perhaps. He always showed himself so fearless and loud, Louis felt useless by this side of him. From afar, it seemed jarring, but up close, it was bizarre, no other word for it. Louis wasn’t really good at social stuff. He’d developed most of his skills from the inside of a kart, talking from a microphone to his principals.

“Oh, okay,” Louis mumbled and nodded awkwardly, then sidestepped around Harry’s body to go to the sinks. He imagined it would look more normal if he actually did something in the bathroom instead of just standing there. He couldn’t be sure, though.

“So, just to recap, _you_ were worried about _me_?” Harry said after a minute of silence, and Louis immediately stopped washing his hands to throw his head to the sky. _Here we fucking go. Of course, he’s back already._

“You are the physical representation of arrogance, Styles. You couldn’t even last for more than a minute,” Louis said, looking at Harry through the reflection of the mirror in front of him. There was another pause of silence.

“We have to stop meeting like this-”

Louis turned and started shaking his wet hands toward Harry, who laughed and shrieked in surprise. Louis just huffed in utter annoyance, then went to get a paper from the dispenser, breathing deep breaths to make his pulse simmer down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He apologized in between chuckles, letting one of his gigantic ringed fingers sweep through his face, wiping the little drops of water from his cheeks. What an absolute ass. 

“Are you done?” Louis asked over his shoulder, drying his hands.

Harry sighed overtly dramatic and then looked at the floor like he was thinking of something. He looked at Louis with that same smug smirk, eyes vibrantly green.

“I’ve got a _proposition_ for you,” He answered instead, wiggling an eyebrow.

“I’m not sucking you off again, but you can keep on dreaming,” Louis said, turning to him and mockingly pouting. 

Harry made a face like he was alarmed and offended by his words, placing one hand to his chest. The ever-present smile on his face made it all fall apart. “Why, sir, I was not referring to that type of proposition.”

Louis just rolled his eyes and let his body rest on the marble counter behind him, “So then what is it?”

“Simple,” Harry said and cleared his throat, hands behind his back while looking at Louis, “Win Australia and I’ll never flirt or tease you again, _ever.”_

Louis took a moment. Then he raised his brow, “You’re saying you’ll finally shut up if I win the Australian GP? _”_ Louis asked excitedly. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes.”

“What makes you so confident?” Louis asked curiously, crossing his arms.

“I know Gemma’s the best. She’ll leave you eating dust for the rest of the season. I’m just getting my part in the fun,” He shrugged. Louis scoffed loudly.

“Y’know what? It’ll be my pleasure to beat anyone in Australia as long as it means you’ll leave me alone,” Louis said without an ounce of guilt, and Harry seemed even more delighted. He stretched a languid hand toward Louis, who took it without hesitation. He could feel his hand’s nerve-endings like a shockwave in his palm when their skin finally met after a year apart.

“Wonderful,” Harry said, though he seemed as affected. He blinked fast and nodded, “Of course, if you lose, you can count on me being the biggest pain in the arse for the rest of the season. Cheerio!” Harry said fast and overtly-posh to annoy him before he walked away— obnoxiously happy. 

Oh, _Louis was fucked._


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to post a chapter per day but bear with me :)

For the rest of the first week, Ferrari worked Liam and Louis hard. They were dead set on placing fastest laps, highest miles covered, and most points each day. By the time Louis was done at six in the afternoon, he had enough energy left to eat something light, take a shower, then pass out from exhaustion. It would start all over again at six A.M. with his alarm screaming right in his ear. He didn’t mind that too much. 

The week, in general, hadn’t been one of the greatest. Between seeing Harry every single day and getting his times handed to him by Lacasa and Styles, Louis wasn’t exactly having a blast. By Friday, he woke up in a bad mood. It stemmed from the fact that Harry hadn’t stopped befriending absolutely everyone remotely close to Louis for the past week. What was worse: he did a bloody good job too.

Louis would arrive at the food court, and Harry would already be sitting at the Ferrari table talking to whomever else was there. It annoyed Louis how easily Harry could worm his way into people’s good graces, and it certainly surprised him he’d even gotten to Ben. 

Ben was normally cold and purposefully distant to the other teams because he was naturally protective of his staff and his friends, but as soon as Harry had begun talking, he just seemed endeared— intrigued, and it left Louis positively seething. 

If he had gotten to Ben, then Harry had truly gotten to everyone on his team. 

Aside from all that, though, Louis was just trying not to let Harry distract him from his actual job. At the moment, he and Gemma were caught in a tug of war. Between the two of them, they were battling for the fastest lap every day. They were passing each other only by thousands. Louis wished he could just leave Gemma behind by a wonderful second or two. Oh, the glory.

Overall, it was safe to say that for the first time in a while; racing fans were delighted to watch testing week like it was an actual race. Ben had texted him the day before saying that the estimated audience this year had tripled over the week, and it was all because people were intrigued to see Louis Tomlinson be challenged after so long. Louis wasn’t sure if that was compliment or not.

Gemma was quickly proving why she was readily hired by Mercedes to drive their cars in Formula 1. She was a fast learner, and she was tenacious, she drove the car with poise and grace, never too aggressive or impulsive. After only three days of testing, she made Louis realize how big of a threat she _truly_ was for Ferrari, the unbeatable champions of Formula 1 since 2012.

She’d thrice won over Louis’ best time and once over Liam’s, which meant that she was driving faster than the two of them— and winning. She was fearless. If she hit gravel or damaged a part of her car, she was back on the track in no time. Louis suspected some of it had to do with the fact that she had a lot of eyes on her now. She could probably feel the pressure to impress fans— it helped that she was too bloody good at driving. 

Harry, though, was just Louis’ personal hell on earth. He made sure to pop in right as Louis was prepping, and he always seemed to acquire more Mercedes merch each time he visited.

“How are we doing today, 28?” Harry asked on Friday, an emblazoned Mercedes cap with Gemma’s number and autograph, a crew shirt from the team, and a _pin_ with an actual picture of Gemma’s car on his shirt. Louis was ready to deck him; he truly was. 

As incredibly annoyed as he’d felt, Louis was also intrigued. Here was Harry, an incredibly well-trained artist, who was able to bring human bodies alive in a piece of marble. Who could paint in a canvas what most wished they could come up with on their own, who’s modeled for Gucci, and been an actor for a Christopher Nolan movie. But still, he was choosing to spend all his free time bothering Louis and hanging around F1 tracks. There was a part of him that knew Harry had to be some sort of fan. He _had_ known Louis’ car number when they’d met.

Louis had also done his homework. He’d come to find out everything he could about Harry Styles. It happened two days ago after he’d felt particularly bored and curious. His laptop just sitting there when he decided it was finally time to google Harry for a second time.

(The first had been the morning after their hookup. A brief search to make sure he wasn’t some sort of weird man with a terrible reputation.) 

From his second search, Louis found out Harry was a successful 25-year-old who could be taken by literally anyone, and by anyone, Louis knew it was anyone. 

(He’d briefly googled Harry’s dating history too. He found out he once dated Taylor Swift for a few months and also got awfully close with the son of the prime minister of England, and that was without counting all the others.)

As far as scandals go, the ones he’d been in were mild enough to be boring. Accidentally tripping over a dog because too many paparazzi were blinding him with their flashes, or, briefly dating a Kardashian— then having all their pictures from a vacation in a giant yacht leaked to the internet. 

There were no DUI’s, public meltdowns, leaked sex tapes, or children he’d denied to the media. It was just very… Harry.

Louis had to admit that while the artist was incredibly irritating and intense, he’d never reached an abhorrent level of ‘dislikable’. He was just shameless and confident enough. He seemed to truly enjoy making Louis squirm and blush without being callous or offensive. He teased enough to make Louis annoyed (and confused). It was infuriating.

So, he knew he could sit Harry down and honestly ask him to stop bothering him, and he knew Harry would kindly accept it and walk away, but Louis didn’t w- wasn’t going to. 

Louis didn’t… _mind_ Harry’s constant presence everywhere because he was ironically one of the few people who could distract him from the growing tension and anxiety of the final days in Spain. He’d decided that Harry being around wasn’t catastrophic enough to actually do something about it. At least not yet. 

Ben had mentioned while Louis was being geared up on day four, that he seemed less stressed and more relaxed in the car, which was good. He wasn’t as tense when going through the turns, and he was doing times he hadn’t done in years at the Barcelona circuit. 

Louis believed that since he’d met Harry, he had been getting distracted from the usual stress of comparing his skills and ability to those of his rivals because he was too busy trying not to blush or react when Harry mentioned anything about his ass or his cheekbones. He was also curious to understand what had made Harry go so abruptly to the bathroom the night of the dinner, and how important that conversation on the phone had been.

Overall, he deemed that the Harry Situation was fine.

In any case, Louis’ mind would throw all distractions away once he had sight of the track in front of him, and he always committed himself to the driving. No handsome artists or numbers and times. Just Louis and a dangerous amount of speed taking him forward. Therapeutic and cleansing. And it was good; he was doing good.

Harry sat with him to have lunch on days three, four, and five— the last days of the first week before they’d get to enjoy the weekend, and come back fresh for the last three sessions.

Harry was in high spirits both days, talking to Niall about Renault’s times and how bad things were going for Chevalier with McLaren. Louis was content listening to them talk and watching Gemma drive, beating Liam’s time for the third day in a row. Louis had the same challenge: go faster than Styles so they could top in the first two spots. 

Liam had gone down a few places a day ago, and Gemma had finished fifth on the third day, Niall explaining it was probably Mercedes’ strategy not to burn the car down until the last day when most teams would bring their all to the table. 

After that, the weekend came by fairly fast. Louis wasn’t too excited. Sure, the time let him rest, ponder, and study new strategies. It gave him time to go over everything he’d missed with his sleep-deprived brain. It was perfectly okay for every other driver to take advantage of the opportunity to enjoy a break, but Louis never thought like that.

He found solace in the adrenaline, the suspense, and the tension. When everything went to shit a year ago, his job, the racing saved him. Louis knew that. Even his therapist thought so.

The weekend break meant he had to wait until Wednesday to get back on the car. Louis felt itchy and restless all through Saturday. There was so much the hotel gym could do for him. He’d tried catching a movie at the local cinema, but most of them were in Spanish. He’d bothered Niall to take him shopping, but by the time they were back at the hotel, Niall was done dealing with his whining for the rest of the month. 

Liam was MIA because he managed to meet up with Zayn in Madrid on Friday evening, and Louis was sure he wasn’t going to see much of the two of them for the rest of the week anyway. 

Harry had announced on Thursday that he was leaving for London to meet up with some labels and producers about an album idea he had in mind. Gemma stayed, but she mentioned being busy settling things with her team. 

That left Louis’ Sunday and Monday all to himself. He tried to use the free time to work out, but even his coach gave him an hour-long lecture about overdoing it and how he would end up injured for the rest of the season if he didn’t stop. 

So, Louis opted instead to hang out at the outdoor pool of the hotel. He swam around, floated for an hour, heard a few cameras clicking from some paps hiding over the fenced wall on his fifteenth lap, and then got recognized by an elderly lady who mentioned she was an avid fan of racing. Her name was Deborah, and when 2 o’clock came around, he invited her to have lunch with him. 

Deborah was nice, and she showed Louis every picture of her grandkids. She mostly talked about her sister’s 14-year-old grandson, who was starting out in Formula 3 soon. Louis made sure to get his name, a note to check him out later on his phone. He thanked Deborah for being so nice and promised to keep in touch when she gave him her number. 

By nighttime, Louis rented a movie and laid back in his bed with a tub of ice cream he’d bought from a convenience store down the street. 

Then, of course, his phone pinged with a new message, right as his movie was starting. 

**_Were you missing me yet, 28?_ **

Louis stared at his phone’s lock screen for the longest time. His movie was three minutes in when he finally paused it. He’d refused to give him his number at the party, how the fuck did he have it?

He could feel his mouth was slightly agape, and a part of him felt like flinging his phone straight to a wall, missing _me yet, 28._ He was re-reading the message so many times it was flashing behind his eyelids when he blinked. 

_Louis was going to murder Niall_. 

He was absolutely positive it was him who gave Harry his number. He had the weakest spot for Harry and his charm. Niall would literally cackle whenever Harry breathed. 

‘ _It was Niall, wasn’t it?’_ He wrote back, his hand furiously grasping his phone. 

**_Maybe. But you know he loves me, so don’t hurt him. He’s harmless._ **

Louis stood up and then immediately let his body fall back on his bed, face first. He groaned into the comforter, his voice muffled and barely audible to his ears. His phone pinged again.

**_So, are you missing me yet?_ **

_No, it’s been a lovely couple of days. I’m better than ever, actually. X_

**_Shame, I miss our bantering. I’m landing back in Barcelona tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you :) xxxx_ **

_I’ll have extra-tight security then .I._

**_WAS THAT AN INNUENDO?_ **

Louis could not believe he was actually fucking blushing over a _text._ Harry was making him go insane. He decided not to give in to his demonic game and instead drew himself a nice warm bath. He took the time to get one of the bath bombs Niall had made him buy because they made the water look like magic. He made Louis promise he would video the moment he dropped the bath bomb in the water. So, Louis took his phone and started recording once he let the weird blue ball fall into the tub. The water fizzed and changed colors for a while before it stopped, the water now an electric blue and neon green. 

He sent the video to Niall and captioned it, _Just because I promised a video, but I’ll kill you for giving Harry my number you prick._

Satisfied, Louis left his phone on the bed and went to take his very well-deserved relaxing bath.

Twenty minutes later, his phone pinged a few times, and he decided he was pruny enough to finish leisure. 

**_:D_ **

All Niall texted back to Louis’ text. Then he checked and saw he had two new texts from Harry.

**_IT’S BEEN AN HOUR, WAS IT AN INNUENDO, YES OR NO?_ **

**_Your silence speaks for itself ;)))) x_ **

Louis chastised himself for reading Harry’s text and actually snorting a laugh. He wasn’t supposed to let Harry in. This was exactly what he wanted. He sobered himself up, cleared his throat, and simply typed, ‘you’re _ridiculous,’_ before connecting his phone to its charger and settling himself to go to sleep. His plan to ignore Harry was working splendidly.

+

He could see sections of the circuit where he wasted good chances in speed, lagging because he was busy minding his steering too much. It was one of his biggest flaws, letting his mind overthink his performance and make him second-guess his instinct or his ‘gut feeling.’ He would get an idea, or a risky strategy would form in his mind, and by the time he felt brave enough to execute it, he’d lagged by six-tenths. He would definitely have to work on trusting himself more, especially now that he’d run by the circuit so many times in the past week— the turns were muscle memory by now.

He didn’t do much after that, other than his scheduled exercises and a bit of physical therapy for a crick on his shoulder. 

By the time Tuesday came around, Harry, Gemma, Niall, Liam, and Zayn got back early, and so Louis decided that they had to all go to a local fair. Zayn could be introduced to Gemma, and they could all bond and have a nice time. Louis could feel himself beginning to develop cabin fever anyway, so one way or another, he was leaving his hotel room to do something productive.

He called everyone (except Harry, Niall could tell him), and they all agreed to meet in the hotel lobby at four in the evening.

“Missed you, Lou,” Zayn said into Louis’ shoulder when they met up by the entrance at four. Liam smiled at him over Zayn’s shoulder. He had a warm smile, and Louis had to hold back from rolling his eyes. Liam always was so much more emotional than him.

“Let’s get this party started!” Niall blared loudly over their heads, walking up to them with a sunny smile. Louis pulled back and looked at Niall. He was wearing light blue jeans and an open yellow shirt with a white shirt underneath. Zayn, on the other hand, looked like he’d walked straight from the runway to dinner in a black turtleneck, shaved blonde head, and long black pants. Liam had black skinny jeans and a Louis Vuitton graphic t-shirt because Zayn always helped him buy his clothes. He loved matching.Louis thought it was too cheesy, but nonetheless, slightly adorable.

“Ni!” Zayn cheered back and hugged him tight then. Niall patted his back roughly and made an excited noise.

“Zaynie boy, It’s been too long, mate.”

Suddenly, the lift doors at the back of the lobby opened, and out came Gemma looking relaxed in a white summer dress with her platinum blonde hair in a tight bun behind her. She had a light lipgloss on, and her wide eyes looked exactly like Harry’s. Right behind her was he-who-must-not-be-named, of course.

He had light pink nail polish, rings on every finger, and tight black pants along with a frilly white shirt that looked like something from the renaissance age. His short curly hair was styled to look like one of those Greek sculptures, and he seemed to have taken a day or two off from shaving. He looked _okay._

Harry walked with the same gait he used for his runways, which made Louis raise an eyebrow in annoyance. Could he ever relax? 

“Hello everyone,” He greeted in his most pleasant voice, even bending a little to acknowledge everyone. Louis fought against all the fibers in his body to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. “28,” He acknowledged Louis separately, his eyes doing his usual once over and smirking— always a tiny bit amused with Louis.

“Styles,” Louis replied back, avoiding eye contact. He fought the self-conscious thoughts that made him double guess his own outfit while Zayn and Harry looked like they did. Louis was wearing tight black jeans and a green, bold tipped wool crewneck, just because it was chilly out and Lottie only ever packed him the fanciest clothes. He had his white-on-white Old Skool vans, and his hair looked different than usual because he’d cut it over the weekend. His usually long fringe, which went a bit over his eyebrows, was higher on his forehead. The barber said he’d been inspired to do a Peaky Blinder’s sort of hairstyle for him. Louis’d only shrugged and let him do it. Lottie screamed at him on FaceTime afterward, saying he had to keep his hair like that forever now.

Harry seemed to like his new look, though. Louis hoped he assumed correctly. He looked in awe, and his eyes were raking through him like they did that night a year ago.

“So, I say we catch the fair for an hour or two and then maybe have dinner at a pizza place near here,” Liam proposed, and everyone agreed. They also agreed to go in the only three cars available since none of them were big enough for their entire group.

“I’ll go with Louis, you go ahead with Niall,” Harry said immediately to Gemma. They also seemed to communicate something with their eyes to each other before she shrugged easily. 

“Let’s go Nialler, let me show you what Mercedes can do. Come to the dark side,” She said eerily, but then laughed when Louis and Liam yelled a weak protest in their direction. Niall’s laugh resounded through the lobby in a loud echo. 

Traitors.

“Let’s see what fine ride you have then.” 

Louis immediately regretted every life decision that had brought him to this moment. He hung his head in defeat and convinced himself he could get through the night without throwing Harry into a pit. “Let’s go.”

The walk to Louis’ car wasn’t too far. The FIA had a few connections with the hotel, so they gave Liam and Louis preferential parking spaces right next to the entrance. One of the perks.

Harry whistled when he saw Louis’ Ferrari, an exact carbon copy of his car back in London. 

“Now, that’s a ride, holy shit,” He said as he went around the car and analyzed every side of it. Louis nodded— for once in agreement with Harry. The car was beautiful. With an unusual outer design, the GTC4Lusso was a sight. At the front, it looked like any other Ferrari sports car, but because it was a grand tourer, the car was made to travel long distances at high-speed. The back of the car was wider with enough trunk space to fit in Louis’ usual amount of luggage before a big race. The steering wheel had the gear stick at the back, and almost everything in the car was controlled from there, just like in F1 race cars. 

“You should hear her after she passes 125 miles. She sounds just like my kart,” Louis said, staring at the piece of work. He turned to Harry with his own smirk now, “Isn’t getting into my car treason or something?”

Harry seemed to think about the question but then snorted and shrugged, “I can’t care less. This car is too beautiful,” He said entranced. He proceeded to bend down, looking at the exhaust pipe, giving Louis a perfect view of his ass. He knew what he was doing.

Louis only breathed and looked at the pretty sky and the setting sun not too far away. Very pretty.

“Let me drive it.”

Louis turned in a flash, “What?”

“Pretty please let me drive it,” He pouted and walked closer to Louis, beginning to get on his knees. “I’m a good driver, I promise.”

Louis thought about saying no immediately, but something stopped him. He took a moment to question why the hell he was thinking what he was thinking, but after Harry kept pouting and looking up at him with his wide green eyes, he gave in.

“Fine,” Louis gritted through his teeth after a beat, and Harry immediately jumped back up.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

So, next thing Louis knew, Harry was excitedly speeding down the highway with the window slightly down, giddily listening to the engine roar with the force of the acceleration. “I’m never getting off this car,” Harry yelled over the sound of the wind and the engine, smile wide as he drove carefully in between a set of cars before speeding when they were behind them. 

“Same words I christened my car with. Then I had the lamest crash. A car backed into mine— in a supermarket parking lot,” Louis yelled over the wind.

Harry’s hair was flying all over his face as he turned to stare at Louis, containing his laugh. Then he snorted, face split in a grin as the Spanish highway showed a clear road ahead. He pulled his window back up, “Imagine crashing somebody’s Ferrari, and then come to realize the owner of the car is a Formula 1 driver.”

Louis did think about it, and he did remember the look of starstruck horror on the boy’s face when he’d recognized him and continued to apologize profusely. Louis shrugged, “I let him get away with it. I paid for his car and mine, seemed like a nice lad. He couldn’t have been more than 18.”

Harry didn’t say anything as he overtook a slow car on the fast lane. He drove a bit more until there were no more cars again, “That’s nice of you,” He said into the quiet car, sounding genuinely moved.

“It was nothing,” Louis said sheepishly and decided to change the subject, already squirming in his seat with flaming red cheeks, “I’ll put on some music.”

Harry nodded, eyes on the road. Louis pulled his phone up and synced his music to the car. He shuffled it, and it landed on Billy Joel’s ‘Vienna.’ He loved that song.

“Are you a big Joel fan?” Harry asked over the chorus.

“I am. This is actually my favorite. I used to listen to it when I was young, just my mum and me in the car going to karting lessons. I actually promised to take her to Vienna someday when I was a big and famous racer,” Louis said, remembering the memory fondly.

“Did you take her?” Harry asked.

“Not yet, I had actually forgotten. I haven’t listened to this song in a while,” Louis replied distracted, thinking he had to make time and actually take her at some point this year. 

The rest of the ride went by fast, between the sound of the engine and the lulling music of Billy Joel.

In person, the fair was bigger than words, and the Ferris wheel at the far back made the one at the Santa Monica Pier pale in comparison. He’d once been with Zayn and Niall, but that was nothing, not even the colors and lights made it justice.

People were everywhere, and ironically that’s where Louis found he could blend in the most. With so many faces, nobody truly looked at anyone or gave them a second glance. He reckoned Harry would be fine. Maybe. Things could get trickier when you added two more racers and a supermodel to the mix. Niall was the only safe one. 

“Guys, over here!” Liam’s voice yelled somewhere to the left by the entrance of the fair, standing next to Zayn, who was also admiring from afar. The group was all gathered there already, so Harry and Louis jogged toward them, everyone bundled with a coat and some scarves, the Spanish weather crispier than usual as it neared nighttime.

“We’ve devised a plan to enjoy everything in the fair. We go clockwise, and when we are by the middle, we check everyone’s not lagging behind, and then we continue with the second side of the fair,” Niall said, and Louis rolled his eyes.

“Nialler, for once, don’t use your engineering degree.”

“I can’t help it; I see things you don’t.”

“Wanker.”

In the end, they all walked together into the fair, and after five minutes, dispersed to different attractions and left Niall’s plan in the dust.

Liam and Zayn went straight for the merry-go-round, Niall and Gemma for the shooting booth with water guns, and Harry and Louis to the bumper cars. 

There were luckily no other people waiting, so they immediately go to the front and inside. Louis chose the only red car, and Harry went straight for a bright yellow at the back.

As soon as they were strapped in, the tiny engines came to life in a noisy hiccup. Louis slammed on the pedal and went straight for the yellow bumper, dodging two people before he made it to Harry, and slammed into him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

Harry turned, looking shocked. He immediately tried to slam against Louis’ car too, except Louis was faster and reversed away from him. Louis managed to drive away for a few seconds before Harry managed to cut in front of him and sped in until he slammed the front of Louis’ car hard. 

“Oh, it’s on!” Louis yelled over everyone screaming and laughing and chased after Harry all over the field. Harry was slowed down by someone else bumping into him, and Louis managed to catch up and bump his front with Harry’s back. 

Harry yelped involuntarily. They both laughed when a little boy slammed into their cars. The game lasted less than five minutes, and once the engines turned back off, Louis stood up and swiftly climbed out, smiling softly.

“You know for a professional racer; you suck at bumper cars,” Harry said, amused, his hands inside of his cream Gucci coat, which had tiny little G’s everywhere. 

“I didn’t suck. I could barely steer, that car was definitely broken.”

“Just admit that you sucked, it’ll be much easier if you do that,” Harry consoled, placing a hand on Louis’ shoulder, “And that was definitely a pun,” He said closer to Louis’ ear which made him just roll his eyes and shrug him off. 

Most of the rides ran out in an hour, and by the time they’d done all the booths, Liam texted in their newly created group chat that they were all heading for the Ferris wheel. Louis told Harry who was currently trying and failing to aim one hoop into a stick, so he could at least win a teddy bear. Harry mumbled something before he used his second to last hoop. It landed incredibly far away, on the floor near the table where he shot from. 

Louis snorted and walked up to Harry, feeling sorry after watching him fail so many tries. “Let me,” He said softly, tapping Harry’s hand so he could hand over his last hoop.

Harry turned to look down at Louis surprised but handed it to him without protest. 

Louis situated himself, where Harry had been and let his brain focus. He clocked the nearest stick that promised stuffed animals from the first row if anyone managed to throw them in. The stick right behind the first one included bigger stuffed animals. Louis quickly placed the hoop near Harry’s face, and he caught on fast. He blew some air into it, for luck. Then, Louis breathed out and reeled his arm in, letting his hand let go of the hoop right as it was unwinding from his body again.

The hoop flew fast across the air and landed neatly inside the third stick at the far back, and as it did, Louis gasped surprised. Harry screamed bloody murder like he’d just won the lottery and ran straight to Louis. Louis turned when he heard Harry’s heavy footsteps running to him and let him hug him so tight he managed to lift Louis a little bit off the ground.

“Fucking legend!” Harry exclaimed, making some people turn, but most kept walking and minding their own business. A couple pointed at them, but Louis reckoned they were fine.

“Okay, okay. Jesus Christ, it’s just a stuffed animal,” Louis said with wide eyes, trying to make Harry quiet down.

“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” Harry said quickly, and let go of Louis’ torso where he’d been holding him up. Setting him back on the ground, he walked to the man working on the booth and immediately pointed to a giant light pink teddy bear that had a white bow. It was just a stupid bear, nothing about that was adorable. 

It was bloody adorable, and Harry suddenly looked tiny with it in front of him, “Best. Day. Ever,” He said from somewhere behind the bear, only his hands were visible from the front.

“Do you want to carry him with me?” Louis asked, knowing full well, Harry needed help. He wasn’t going to get two steps in with that thing over his face.

“Only if you want, Ginny won’t mind if you help,” Harry said, and Louis had to stop and look incredulous at Harry’s hands.

“Did you just name that giant bear after Ginny Weasley?” Louis asked suspiciously. Although he already knew the answer. 

“Of course I did, she’s the best character of course,” He said while Louis tugged on one arm of the pink bear and let Harry hold the other, carrying the bear like a child swinging from two adult arms.

“Hmm, we sadly agree on something else,” Louis said with a disappointed face, and Harry laughed loudly, nudging his elbow to Louis’ ribs with a grin.

They suddenly arrived at the line for the ride and spotted their group already a few people from the entrance. Louis pulled Harry along and reached them after going through everyone else, apologizing for the giant teddy bear.

“Holy shit!” Zayn said when he saw Harry’s prize taking up a whole space in line. 

“Where did you win that bloody thing?” Gemma asked with a big smile. She seemed used to Harry doing weird shit. 

“Louis won it for me at a hoop game back there,” He said happily to her. Louis looked around the line and up to the people already on carts going around the ride.

“I imagined it wasn’t you. You have terrible eye-hand coordination,” Gemma said smugly.

“Heeeey,” Harry protested with scrunched eyes. 

“Don’t make me tell them the story of why I know that,” Gemma warned good-naturedly. 

Harry scoffed, turning to Louis, “I don’t have terrible coordination, right?”

Louis raised his eyebrows, feeling like a deer caught in headlights, “Ummm…”

“Yes! I told you,” Gemma said.

“Whatever.”

+

They moved along the line, and everyone in the group chatted over each other, laughing about something that happened to them in the bumper car ride. Liam was laughing loudly over Niall, who was screaming something at him that had Zayn was giggling into his shoulder. 

But, as more people went into the ride, Harry began to go quieter, his skin paler and his frame more fidgety. Gemma cut in through the group and approached Harry, who was looking up at the ride with a terrified expression. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Gemma asked so quietly, Louis’ ears had to strain to listen.

“Don’t worry about me, have fun,” Harry answered back and nudged his head in Niall’s direction. 

Gemma’s cheeks flushed, but she smiled at her brother nonetheless, “Fine,” she said and left to rejoin her conversation with Liam, Zayn, and Niall. 

“I’m scared of heights,” Harry admitted turning to Louis with his first sheepish expression. It was a milestone. The first out-of-character behavior was the dinner; this was only his second. He knew Louis snooped in his conversation with Gemma, “But, don’t worry, we’re going on the Ferris wheel. Just thought you should know in case I freak out or something.”

Louis thought about what to say, but as the line moved forward, Harry began to look paler and paler, wide eyes looking up at the top of the wheel and then back down, every time a little bit greener. Louis felt a twinge of sympathy.

“Thunderstorms terrify me,” Louis admitted with a shrug. Harry looked at him, confused tilt in his mouth. A beat passed, then “Y’know what? I don’t want to ride the Ferris wheel. Let’s do the merry-go-round.”

Before Harry had a chance to protest or say anything, Louis shouted a half-assed excuse to the group, and they were suddenly off the line and walking away from the Ferris wheel, Harry being pulled by his hold on the teddy bear.

“I said we were going on the Ferris wheel, 28! You didn’t have to get out because of me,” Harry said, trying to keep up. He sounded winded, where he was trying not to trip as Louis kept pulling him further and further from the line. There was also relief in his voice. Louis knew he’d made the right decision.

“I didn’t, that’s right. I _wanted_ to, there the situation changes,” Louis said breezily, using the same voice Harry used on him to sound smug and to infuriate Louis. 

It got the job done— except that Harry didn’t get annoyed like Louis. Instead, Harry nudged Louis’ side again and laughed, looking down at Louis’ face. Their height thing bruised Louis’ ego most days, but today he didn’t let it bother him as Harry slightly taller frame towered over him. 

They rode the merry-go-round and laughed when a group of kids eyed them viciously from outside the ride, probably thinking about how two grown men were taking two perfectly good horses to look like giddy children and laugh at each other on them.

Out of all the surprises, this new season could’ve brought Louis becoming friends with artist and sculptor Harry Styles, was definitely not on the list. What truly baffled Louis was the little things they had in common. He was right at Louis’ heels in every conversation, they shared similar music tastes, and Harry showed a real interest in the racing world. It was hard to find people like him, but Louis knew there was a long road ahead before he could wake up every day and not feel the increasing urge to punch his perfect teeth off. These were baby steps.

Louis felt butterflies in his stomach but denied his mind process what it meant to only have them around Harry. Louis had grown accustomed to living and existing by himself. His job didn’t give him time to really bond with anyone outside of the racing world, and in it, there were only two other gay racers. Liam and Elliot Clark racing with Red Bull. 

The mere idea of dating Liam made Louis cackle, and Elliot was happily engaged to be married in a few months. So, that left Louis with no suitable candidates.

Of course, there were many technicians and engineers, but Louis knew he was done with that. His heart had been shattered beyond repair a year ago. He wasn’t ready to ever face that sort of pain again.

Leonard Holland. Former performance technician for Renault effective last year. He had honey brown hair, hazel eyes, and perfectly kissable lips. He fell in love with Leo after two minutes of conversation, and he didn’t stop loving him until the last day they saw each other. Things ended painfully wrong only the year before. It still burned like a gaping hole in his chest when he thought about him. 

So he didn’t. 

It’s why he went to that party a year ago and sucked Harry off in a bathroom without really knowing him. Louis wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of moving on. 

The spinning finally stopped, and Louis felt his focus return back to the present, where he was still holding on to a pink teddy bear with Harry, who had wind-swept hair and a lovely set of dimples. He looked serene and pleased. He didn’t look like Leo. Never had.

They climbed down from their horses and Louis felt he had a small faint smile on his lips when he looked at Harry beside him, who was also looking at him from the side where they were both walking together along the path of the fair, leaving behind the noise and music from the merry-go-round. 

Harry stopped walking before they were about to rejoin the madness of the crowds heading in different directions. Louis stopped too when he felt the teddy bear resist, and he turned to see Harry just looking at him. So Louis walked closer to Harry and stared back, confused but unbothered. They were less than an arm’s length away then. 

Harry was tall, and he had enough muscle to make Louis just a tiny bit jealous. It wasn’t easy staring at an artist and not noticing how truly flawless they were. It had taken time to get over Zayn’s face. Hell, Liam still couldn’t get over it. Plus, Harry was his type. He had a sweet voice, a funny personality, a bubbly attitude in stressful times, and a good heart. Louis wasn’t blind; he knew Harry was one of the loveliest persons he’d ever met. He had beautiful brunette curly hair, entrancing green eyes, strong arms, and wide hands. He was like a perfect painting just existing plainly. 

Louis sighed and looked at the ground, breaking eye contact when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

“Let’s go, I think they’re looking for us,” Harry broke softly, looking tentatively at Louis’ lips, which surprised him to realize had been inched dangerously close to the boy’s own. Somehow, at some point in Louis’ pondering, they’d both stopped staring and had leaned into each other. It scared him to think he’d been so lost in thought he’d just let it all happen.

Louis knew outside his world and brain, none of this was dramatic or _wrong_ , but he had baggage, he had a shitload of walls he needed to break down, and he had days worth of excuses in order to be irritated by Harry’s presence.

So, he shrugged the moment off in a bout of internal panic, which he also ignored, and opted instead to look up at Harry in what he hoped looked like a calm and collected expression. He nodded easily and tugged on the giant pink bear.

“Come on, then.”


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: domestic abuse and violence. The text is marked with italics. Love you all.

Now on the ninth day, there were only two more sessions left before testing was done, and they would be allowed to go back to their lives and training. It was palpable how eager all the driver’s were to move on to Australia. It seemed like a long time, but Louis knew it would go by in a flash. 

Louis had a nice start on day nine. He’d gone to the gym at six A.M, and then he walked around the track and chatted with the other racers. He even met with Gemma in her lane and wished her luck just as she was getting into her car. His morning had been good. He was cheery as he greeted everyone in their box. 

He passed the Ferrari cars and a group of technicians talking over a computer, going straight to the back where the cameras couldn’t see, and quickly got into his usual black shirt and pants that went underneath his red overalls. He put on his racing gear next, lacing up his boots, zipping up his suit, and tightening everything so it would be comfortable for the long drive. 

But, as Louis walked out of the changing room, none other than Harry stood there against a wall, his leg propped up, and his arms crossed. He was wearing a flat grey cap and a grey vintage shirt that had a fading Rolling Stones logo at the front. His jeans were light denim, and Louis had to note that it was the first time he’d ever seen him wear normal human clothes. His nails were a more bubblegum pink, and he had fewer rings than usual. He wore his own white Old Skool Vans, and his eyes were bright when they looked at Louis. He looked happy and smug, his default expression perhaps. Harry sighed.

“I’ll never get tired of watching your ass in that uniform,” He said, and couldn’t hold back his laugh when Louis hummed noncommittally, then walked toward Dean, one of their engineers, who started hooking him up with the intercom system and other cables. 

“You’re insufferable, go bother some other innocent driver,” Louis said, trying to sound bored, letting Dean place the mic inside of his suit.

“Nah, the other driver’s aren’t fun,” Harry winked, and Dean held back a laugh. Louis looked at him, incredulously. 

“You’ll find that your advances are in vain, so I suggest you go elsewhere with your’ ’ charm,’” Louis air quoted, then tightened his leather gloves. Dean stepped back when he was done, so Louis turned to Harry, who wasn’t propped against the wall anymore. He was fairly close in Louis’ space. He was suddenly looking at Louis with intent and plain seriousness. 

Louis’ stomach swooped in surprise and something else he couldn’t describe.

“As much as I love our bantering,” Harry said quietly with a tiny smile still on the corner of his lips, “I came to wish you luck, and to tell you to be careful,” Harry said, and Louis didn’t quite remember what the instructions for breathing were. _Harry Styles looking worriedly at you,_ might win a record for one of the top ten most intense experiences ever. “I went by the Renault pit box, and I overheard one of their men saying your name, it didn’t sound good. I don’t know how sabotage works here but watch your back. Yeah?”

Louis really wanted to say something witty or smart so they could return to their natural balance of annoyance vs. flirting, but the way Harry’s eyes were almost burning straight through Louis’ skull made him think twice. 

So, he nodded dumbly, “Okay, don’t worry. No one from other teams touches our stuff, it’ll be fine.”

“Okay, then. Don’t break a leg but drive slower than my sister,” He said, and with a wink, Harry was gone through a door before Louis could say anything in return.

Louis swallowed his pride and fought from running after him to shout back a clever response.

+

“Tommo, ease into ten, Petrovich is on your tail.”

Renault’s Avilov Petrovich began to close into Louis’ space as turn 10 came up, and with a calculated maneuver, he managed to get past Avilov and zoom toward turn 11. Harry’s voice echoed in his head, but he didn’t let that distract him. Tampering with a rival’s car was something from the olden ages. 

As turn 12 came up ahead, Louis kept driving fast and watched his panel and Niall’s updates in case anything showed warnings. At least ten more laps in, Louis’ intercom had not beeped with any updates, so Louis assumed everything was fine. He drove one more lap before things went very wrong.

See, drivers were trained to understand and know when cars were failing or about to fail. They could feel a car’s engine breaking down, and they could physically tell when a tire needed changing. In Louis’ case, things went wrong when he decided to try beating Gemma’s fastest lap because everything seemed fine.

He accelerated on turn 1, past turns 2, 3, 4, and 5, and suddenly turn 6 came too quickly and a second later a far away, “Louis!”

Niall’s voice came back to Louis a second before the nose of the car went straight through a wall. Right before it crashed, there was a moment of complete and ringing silence that seemed to be the adrenaline building fast into Louis’ body. The ringing was a familiar sound from a distant memory. The world seemed to slow down.

_“You insensitive asshole, every fucking time,” Leonard’s voice echoed, his defined jawline and dark eyes appearing through the smoke. They were angry. Always so angry. “Every single fucking time, I’m so done with your shit,” Leo spit in Louis’ face, reeking of alcohol, eyes drooping with the inebriation._

_“Stop, please.”_

_“What the fuck do you mean, stop? I’m not going to fucking stop, I’m so tired of your depressive shit and your sad fucking eyes._ You _should fucking stop,” Leo was pacing. His shiny loafers on the carpeted floor of his apartment thumped with each step, which sounded like a distant memory too. Painful._

_“Just stop yelling. I’m begging you, I’m sorry, please, Leo, stop,” Louis sobbed, and he felt pathetic for begging to his boyfriend, but he’d been like this for too long. Louis just needed his old Leo back, the kind man who never raised his voice. The one who brushed the hair off his face at three in the morning and cried with sad endings. He just wanted his boy back._

_“I’M NOT GOING TO STOP YELLING!” Leo shouted, and he took one look at Louis’ bloodshot, eyes to go over the edge. He immediately charged toward him, and with a clear movement of his fist, swung straight for his boyfriend’s eye._

_When Louis cried out in pain, Leo felt a rush of adrenaline, and without remorse took back his hand and pulled Louis’ hair, hard. Louis tried to push and kick, but Leo was stronger, and angrier— drunk on power._

_“Leo, stop!” Louis yelled as loud as he could manage with the sobs breaking through him, his whole body shaking in fear, and his mind racing with terror. He had to survive this._

_“Stop fucking saying that!” Leo yelled again, pulling at Louis’ hair harder, making him cry out in pain, “I can do whatever the fuck I want, you needy piece of shit!”_

Ten seconds, ten seconds of pure ringing. His body remained numb, where it was still strapped tight to his crashed car. He hadn’t let Leonard back inside his head for so many months. Louis truly believed he’d finally let him go— forgotten. That was a sobering reminder that there was a part of his mind that had simply locked it all away. 

With only the sound of his heavy breathing through the helmet, Louis managed to ease himself back into reality, the ringing fear in his ears fading as he came back slowly. Niall’s voice was trying to calmly guide him into shutting the car off. Any tiny spark could convert it into a bomb. 

Louis breathed in once, twice, then thrice before he made his hands move to the steering wheel and made the car completely shut off. The roaring sound of the engine disappeared in a second. The only sound was his heavy breaths and Petrovich’s car driving in the far distance. He could still hear the engine slowly cooling off, but Louis focused all his attention on assessing his physical state. He was lucid enough to shut off the voice of memories in his head—another time for that.

He wiggled the ten fingers in his hands, and none stung. He quickly stretched his arms and didn’t feel any sting in his shoulders, forearms, or wrists. Then he wiggled his feet. 

While the right foot felt normal, his left stung as he rolled it freely. Suddenly, Louis realized his feet were touching the circuit barriers.  The front of the car was gone, and his feet were exposed to the wind. He'd tapped his foot when he first came straight through the gravel. A part of the car also, seemed to have hit his helmet, causing his visor to lift. He could feel a bit of sting to the side of his cheek. 

Louis finally decided to push himself off the car and saw the marshals in neon orange coats at the barrier running to him with fire extinguishers. He’d truly crashed this time. He’d wrecked the car.

One of the marshals called through a radio, “Put up red flags, crash at turn six, cancel now,” as he ran to Louis.

“Louis, are you okay?” Niall’s voice called worriedly from within his helmet, still trying to keep his professionalism. 

For a second, Louis had to inhale shakily, but he immediately answered a little breathless, “I am okay. I lost control of the car on turn six. I’m so sorry. Bloody shit,” His curse wavered looking at the damage to the front wing, completely gone. “What happened?”

“Tyre system failed, we lost updates to the computer,” Ben cut in, “Left and right front tyres stopped spinning after a few seconds, there was nothing you could have done,” Ben sounded upset with himself. “We were trying to make you box, but the headset wouldn’t work.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologized again faintly, breathing heavily as if he’d run a mile. He removed his helmet and balaclava while the emergency crew checked the car had no sparks or gas leaks before turning to him, “How are you? Any pain?” One of the marshals with a strong Spanish accent asked as he approached Louis. 

“Just here, on my face and my left foot. Some cuts probably, but nothing else,” Louis said, pointing to his cheek.

The man nodded, “Move around, check nothing aches or stings. The safety car is coming.”

Louis wiggled his feet and hands again, checking the joints and muscles for any pain. He walked around a circle as Antonio Lacasa’s car drove by, slower, as he’d been warned for red flags, meaning he had to slow down, and head to the pits immediately, or he’d be handed a penalty. 

Antonio raised his hand to ask if he was fine, so Louis raised a thumbs up and watched him drive away as he also raised his thumb in understanding. Cameras on giant cranes, and nearby on the ground panned from Louis to his car in the background. He knew everyone watching would probably flood his social media with mixed reactions. He wasn’t going to check any of it.

His legs felt like jelly. The adrenaline rush and his heart were racing painfully fast, making him numb. He knew it wasn’t so much the crash, but Leo’s eyes like a fading image at the back of his head. Crashes happened all the time; all the drivers knew it was part of the sport. Louis shook his head as if to physically rid himself of the lingering screaming, the crying. 

God, he’d actually wrecked the car on testing week. He was never going to hear the end of this from the press. He’d be asked about it at the press conference later that day. Niall would surely have a plan about what to say in regards to the crash and not have fans talking or looking too much into it. Crashes _did_ make for more interesting watch time. 

“Lou, it’s Liam, you’re okay? No pain?” Liam asked, worried, his earpiece still on.

“Hey Li, I’m fine,” Louis sighed; still a little shaken, “The car failed on turn six and slid off the track, but I’m okay. The car isn’t, though,” He said mournfully as he looked back at the wreckage and circuit workers moving the car on to a tow truck. This whole day suddenly sucked.

“It does look pretty banged up, but Ben said it’s totally fixable. I saw it all on the screens. It was so sudden. You just slid off the track like it was wet.”

“I felt some resistance by turn four, but I didn’t realize it was bad until the car was on the wall— yeah,” Louis said, and he immediately thought of his mum and hoped she hadn’t been watching the testing. Louis knew it was hopeless to think that because she religiously watched any F1 coverage, just to see him a few minutes. “Li, do me a favor and call my mum, she’s probably freaking out, and I don’t want her or the girls to worry.”

“Don’t worry. I was going to call her as soon as I finished talking to you.”

“Thank you, Li,” Louis said with a sigh. He was still full of adrenaline, and he tried a few deep breaths to calm down his beating heart, but he knew he would eventually calm down enough to analyze what happened. 

“Mr. Tomlinson, the safety car has to take you to the medical center, to check you,” The same marshal said as the Mercedes safety car parked in front of him. 

“Gracias por su ayuda,” Louis said, some faint Spanish he’d picked up a few years back while racing in Spain. _Thank you for your help._

Louis climbed on to the safety car after being checked by the driver, who also doubled as an emergency medic. Once he confirmed there were no major or worrisome injuries, they drove toward the medical center with cameras scrutinizing his every move. 

+

After a long and thorough examination, the on-call doctor deemed Louis well and healthy— aside from the few tiny cuts along his right cheek, and the ankle stabilizer for his foot.

Louis was finally allowed to return to pit box after two hours. At the Ferrari lane, Liam, Niall, and Ben were waiting for him as he climbed out carefully, his body beginning to stiffen from the giant dose of adrenaline that had slowly trickled out, his muscles feeling increasingly sore like he’d run a marathon. 

“You gave us a right scare,” Liam said into his shoulder, not squeezing too tight but still holding on to him, “I reckon Ben almost fainted when the car wrecked but he was totally losing his shit when you took your time getting out. Scared all of us actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, quietly feeling drained and ready to forget all about the week. 

“Nothing to apologize for, we checked everything, it was the computers that caused an error in the tyres, not your fault,” Niall said from beside Liam. 

Liam let go almost reluctantly, and Niall immediately engulfed him a bear hug— it was overwhelming to his sensitive body.

“Lou, how are you?” Ben asked once Niall completely stepped off Louis’ space.

“Getting sore, but everything’s fine. I’m sorry about the car. I really didn’t notice anything until turn 4.”

“Don’t worry anymore lad; the technicians confirmed they could fix it come tomorrow afternoon. If you’re still up for it, the car will be ready for the final day of testing.”

“Thank you,” He said and smiled at the three of them. 

“Press is waiting though, couldn’t get you out when they gave you the all-clear,” Liam said sympathetically, “FIA wants you to be clear and state the track wasn’t the problem, that the car had a malfunction. Niall already approved it,” Liam said and rolled his eyes because it was always the same thing whenever there was a crash. The FIA would immediately panic and ask to be defended until they were no longer in the line of fire. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll go there right now,” Louis said, and they both nodded.

Louis took the long way to the conference room to try and dissect what had gone wrong in the track. He’d done about thirty laps without any trouble since the last update, going about each turn and speeding and braking when it was necessary. He’d been eyeing the tyre wear of his mediums, and he’d listened to Niall’s updates on heat emissions from the engine. After ten more laps, Louis could only recall the silence.

His mum was probably going to talk his ear off tonight. Louis hoped it wouldn’t get bad enough to make her worry, and fly over to Spain just to check him herself. 

As a former nurse, she claimed she had unlimited rights to fuss, and mother hen all of her children whenever she wanted. But, she had enough children to keep her busy whenever Louis had minor crashes that barely took a check-up to have him off and racing again. 

Because they were such a large family, it wasn’t easy for them to catch Louis’ races in person, so they tried to attend those nearest England. Lottie usually snuck out to some further away because she was twenty-one already and loved traveling to see her older brother. She also had a major crush on Renault’s Eddie Tanner from Australia, and thanks to Louis, she had been able to meet him a few times. Which definitely influenced her visiting him more often.

Thinking about his siblings made him miss his family, so Louis had to shut it all off when he finally reached the conference room, after walking a few hallways and going through a few doors. A woman in charge of media management greeted him at the door labeled ‘ _Conference room - Driver’s entrance,’_ and then announced him to the reporters, “Driver number 28 for Scuderia Ferrari, Louis Tomlinson.” 

The room, of about twenty reporters and ten photographers, immediately seemed to liven up. The sound of rustling and chairs scraping started up when Louis walked in, throwing a quick ‘hello’ before sitting down behind a table with a mic, cameras on him from every angle. Camera shutters went off noisily across the back. 

“Hello Louis, I hope you are well after today’s events. Can you tell us what happened?” The official reporter for Formula 1 asked from the back of the room with a mic.

“Hi Rob,” Louis said into the mic, and his voice came back to him from speakers in the room. He sounded tired. “The car had a few malfunctions, and the most crucial was tyre pressure and software feedback, which stopped updating to the computers in pit wall. I had no way of knowing or helping what happened, but I can confirm, the car system’s failure was the sole reason the crash occurred. I was given the all-clear this afternoon.”

“Is the car going to be ready to drive for tomorrow’s final testing day?”

“Yes, I talked with my team and technicians. It’s been estimated that by tomorrow afternoon, the race car will be back on for the last day. As will I,” He said and smiled when the reporters laughed. 

“It’s been said that an alleged intercom warning was given to you one lap before the crash occurred. Is this true, or did your headset fail before the car collided with the barrier?”

Louis paused as he thought of the right answer. The intercom’s usually didn’t fail, because they were made to withstand other radio frequencies, but Louis could be positive he hadn’t heard any warnings before the accident. He hadn’t heard Niall or Ben mention anything of the sort either. 

“Driving is quite intense, and adrenaline is incredibly heightened once speed picks up. I believe that the thing about racing that makes it so interesting is that margin for human error— which is always present when we drive in tracks for the Grands Prix. I’m not going to lie and say I know for certain. It could have happened, as it could not, but if it did, I was not able to hear it. We’re all human, and I made the mistake of getting too comfortable today, and then underestimated the kart’s health when it ultimately crashed.”

“One last question for you, Louis, from this week of testing, who do you deem a solid threat for this 2020 Formula 1 tour?”

“Uh- Well, I can say with certainty that this year there’s a lot of newfound resilience and hunger in the track. But, as for performance and strategy, Mercedes seems like the strongest rival. Lacasa has polished his execution and maneuvers, and Styles is definitely a new talent. She’s fast, and she’s a real threat, more so than old rivals that came back this year, I dare say.”  
  
“So, do you think Gemma Styles from Mercedes will be your biggest rival to beat?”

Louis nodded, “I do. Gemma is very good at her job, and I know this will be an interesting season.”

“Thank you, Louis.”

“Thank you,” Louis said back to the room, then waved goodbye to some reporters he recognized from years of press conferences. 

Leaving the room, he felt like he’d said everything he could’ve in his defense. Now, he was free to get out of his racing suit and into more accessible clothes that didn’t feel like they were suffocating him. Louis tugged lightly on his collar.

On the way to his dressing room, Louis caught up with Niall, who had been about to leave for the hotel. “Was it bad?” Niall asked. 

Louis shook his head, “Nah, just three protocol questions, and they let me go. Think they took pity on me cause of me face,” Louis said and winced when his cheek burned slightly. 

“Well, Liam’s gone for the day because Zayn picked him up. Said he would take the morning spot until your car’s done anyway.”

“M’kay,” Louis said distracted as he rubbed his eyes, exhaustion beginning to take hold of him. 

“Rest Lou, you’ve got plenty of time to relax before testing tomorrow. Do some laps in that giant hotel pool for me,” Niall said and nudged Louis’ arm, making him laugh quietly. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess,” Louis said weakly, then he started, “Do you know where Harry is?”

“Oof, mate, I forgot to tell yeh. He was with us looking at the screens, and I swear he went white as paper. Never seen a crash in person, I reckon. I told him he needs a stronger stomach because these crashes happen all the time.”

Louis’ stomach dropped, but he nodded, “Yeah.”

“I know you two are sort of ‘friends’, so I tried to calm him down. He just wanted to know if you were okay. I think he might still be waiting in the pit box right now.”

“Thanks, I’ll head there now. See you tomorrow,” Louis with a furrowed brow; he tried to rub the nape of his neck comfortingly. He was feeling the adrenaline crash building up in his spine, the tension of everything falling on to him.

“Love ya Tommo, glad you’re okay,” Niall said, then left almost skipping through the back door. 

Louis was left in the middle of the empty hallway in his slightly dirty suit and with a sore ankle. He sighed as he walked to his pit box and thought of ways to convince Harry the crash had been completely their fault and not some evil plan from Renault.

But, before he could formulate proper excuses, Harry appeared down the hallway, and his eyes were full of worry and relief, “28!” He exclaimed, running to him.

Louis only had a second to look surprised before Harry hugged him tight and held him there, sighing loudly. Louis took a second to react, but then he wrapped his own arms around Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry held him and rocked them from side to side while humming softly, almost in a soothing manner, “I’m so, so glad you’re okay,” He said into Louis’ shoulder, calm. Louis noted he smelled like vanilla and spice. 

He closed his eyes, and the day finally hit him like a ton of bricks. 

_“Leo stop!”_

_“You fucking piece of shit!”_

_“Louis!”_

_“I don’t know how sabotage works here but watch your back. Yeah?”_

Louis’ stomach dropped the second he felt a single warm tear pool through his closed eye. There was so much tension pent up in his throat, he knew right then, he was a ticking bomb. He could feel the tears coming more intensely, and he finally sniffed quietly, making Harry tense up around him. He knew.

Louis didn’t dare move as his chest contracted, and more tears rolled down his cheek. He was crying softly enough that only Harry was able to tell. 

Harry immediately reacted once he understood what was happening and held tighter on to Louis, rubbing his hands across his back, soothing and warm. He was humming, and Louis could hear him like he was underwater, and Harry was close by the edge, waiting for him to come out of the deep end. 

Maybe minutes passed by them, maybe hours, but Louis stayed in Harry’s embrace letting his tears soak through Harry’s silk shirt, letting his chest contract and his sobs leave him involuntarily, his eyes firmly shut as he tried to rid himself of Leo’s horrible screaming, rid himself of his own voice begging, crying, hoping it would all go away. He did that so often. Another sob wracked his chest. They were endless.

Harry lifted one hand and ran it through Louis’ short hair now. He was still humming and rocking them almost imperceptibly, then he also whispered, “You’ll be okay, you’re fine, let it all out. You’re okay.”

Louis only felt his heart pulse even more painfully at his words because they reached straight into the core of his pain, and he made it all seem a little bit better. There’d been so much pain and suffering. So many sleepless nights when he thought Leo would switch and try something worse than a slap or a punch. He remembers sleeping with the kitchen knife under his pillow by the end. He remembers gripping his hands so tightly around his comforter when he sobbed softly into it at night. Waking up sore, bruises scattered like a sad painting. The contracting of his chest when he couldn’t hold his tears any longer. So much heartbreak and pain. Long sleeves to hide the purple finger marks on his arms. Liam’s worried eyes, Niall’s long stares analyzing every corner of his body, taking pictures with his phone to show the judge at the trial. Louis was shaking, always shaking, so thin and scared. So much pain.

He almost lost his racer’s license that year. He was too light and skinny to keep the car’s chassis down. He lost most of the body mass he needed to qualify for a new season. His muscles weren’t going to withhold the force of 200 mph. Ben said one race, and he would turn to dust. So, he picked himself up and got better. At least physically, he did. Niall and Liam thought he was okay all over. Louis was fine with that. He’d been okay so far.

Fifteen minutes passed before Louis felt himself calm down, felt his chest get lighter, and his sobs reduce to the quiet hum of the hallway lights. His head got clearer the longer he stayed in Harry’s arms. The world slowly came into focus again. Harry sensed it too. He loosened his tight grip around Louis and slowly let go of their hug, looking at Louis’ red, puffy eyes with sincerity and concern he’d never truly seen on him before. 

Harry just quietly stood there, looking at him with care and worry. He let Louis pull himself together again.

Louis wiped his eyes and accepted a tissue Harry materialized from nowhere. He blew his nose loudly, and Harry only rubbed his arms softly, looking at him carefully, like he was figuring out his boundaries. Then he looked from Louis’ face to his foot, his eyes sad, “You’re pretty banged up.”

Louis nodded and made a face. He cleared his throat a few times, “I almost sprained my ankle, so they put that on it to get it ready for tomorrow.”

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, “You’re still driving after that?”

“Well, yeah,” Louis said with a rasp. He wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his suit, carding his fingers through his fringe so that it would be off his eyes, “I’ve crashed before, this one wasn’t as bad even. One time I almost cracked my arm in two— painful recovery.”

Harry got impossibly paler at that and let out a breath, looking at the floor, “Shit. I didn’t know this was like that. I thought they gave you time to rest—”

“They do,” Louis interjected fast, Harry’s increasingly worried face making him react. “If the doctor thinks so. But, I can move both my feet, and my eyes work fine, so there’s no reason to leave me out of the final day. Plus, I was asked if I was sure and I said yes,” He shrugged and tried to read Harry who was distracted, looking down at his injured foot.

“Hmm,” He hummed, “I just hope you’re not pushing yourself more than you should or can,” He looked up.

Louis imagined that Harry was perhaps thinking of Gemma getting into a crash, worrying about her going through that. 

“I’m fine, H, really. If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t be driving tomorrow,” Louis said and nudged Harry’s black loafer with his racing boot, making him look up. He still didn’t look at peace.

“Has it ever been bad enough that you’ve thought of quitting?” Harry asked the question like he was asking something entirely different under the surface.

Louis pondered. He nodded then shrugged, “I mean, I guess. There was the Bahrain crash two years ago. Nastiest one ever got whiplash for two weeks and couldn’t sleep right for a while—”

“I’ve seen it,” Harry admitted tightly, his eyes scrunched in discomfort like he could replay it in his mind.

Louis did a double-take, still wiping his eyes from tears, “Pardon?”

Harry looked earnestly at Louis, “I’ve seen it,” he repeated, looking back down at his shoes. “When we met at the gala, I already knew who you were from the races I’d followed. Growing up with a racer meant watching the races most nights. I was a big fan of you,” Harry’s cheeks were beetroot red, and Louis felt something shift in his chest. _Harry had been a_ _fan; he knew it. “_ Always rooting for you. Gemma had a blast teasing me when she found out we’d become-” He gestured between the two of them amused, “-friends.”

Speechless. Here stood this world-known ex-artist, pigeon-toed with embarrassment, and he didn’t look an inch the confident artist that strutted for Versace in sheer clothing. Harry looked shy and earnest, admitting this. He wasn’t the face of Gucci draped over a million nude bodies _._ Just Harry being bashful. 

“Oh,” Louis managed, “Harry Styles a fan of _me?”_

Harry went redder and looked at Louis through his long lashes, a small self-deprecating laugh escaping him. He nudged Louis’ shoulder with his ringed hand, looking _embarrassed how_ the tables have turned.

Louis was still breathing just fine. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Jesus, 28.”

“Oh no, now you’ve said it, I won’t be able to talk about anything else,” Louis laughed when Harry covered his face with both hands looking defeated.

Their laugh died down, and Harry looked back at him with big, doe eyes that looked even greener under ugly fluorescent lights. Huh.

“Let’s go swimming,” Louis said suddenly. 

Harry looked at him, surprised, and quirked an eyebrow, which made Louis’ stomach dance and turn a few times. Hmm, maybe he was coming down with something.

“Please.”

+

An hour later, they were floating on their backs in the giant temperate indoor pool of the hotel. There was slow 1920’s music, and Louis was comfortable just floating, and letting the stress of the day leave him. All thoughts from the accident were at the back of his mind. Instead, he was listening to Harry’s movements next to him in the desolate room, and he was focusing on his own lungs, expanding and retracting evenly.

He was fine here, not thinking of Leo, just Harry and him, floating hairs away in a pool in Barcelona, carefully edging around each other in their personal spaces because that’s what people did. 

Louis couldn’t help but let his mind drift to Harry, quieting the horror of memories Leonard left behind. The music from the speakers faded in his thoughts. There was comfort in the fact that Harry was completely clueless about Leonard’s existence. Maybe it was the lack of a pitiful set of eyes looking sadly at him whenever he was going through a hard time or a bad day. Liam and Niall sometimes did that. He wasn’t complaining. He just enjoyed the silence.

He thought of Harry in general, the hum of the water making it easy to focus and contemplate. He thought about some of the decent conversations they had during the first week of testing. Sometimes, while Harry was smugly looking at Louis in their lunch table and chatting to all of his friends, he would get distracted from their bantering and earnestly talk about himself and his plans. 

Harry would talk about his art and the kind of people he wanted to invite to his shows. He would get genuinely excited, talk fast about color palettes, and different brush styles. He’d get all bright and happy when he talked about new oil paint sets he’d received or how many ideas he’d garnered through the week.

Harry would shyly show Louis sketch pictures on his phone. They would be anything from tiny flowers he’d spotted while jogging around the hotel, to silhouettes of people sunbathing or dancing, unaware of Harry’s fast pencil capturing the moments. Other days, a snippet of a work in progress, a massive watercolor canvas hanging on a wall. It never got boring. 

Through all the chaos and the bantering, one thing was blatantly clear: Harry was an unstoppable creative force. If he drew, he did it with grace, if he painted, then it was nominated eight times for an award if he did interviews he was all poise and charm, and if he sculpted, he was dedicated and precise. He had something in his collection for every type of subjectivity.

He had a beautiful honey-like voice that hummed when he thought nobody was listening. Louis couldn’t deny something so glaringly obvious. Harry’s infinite talents were a definite factor to that magnetic attraction he set off in the people around him. He was a force of nature, he was polite and caring, and he was definitely handsome. The world was in love with him, and he loved the world right back. Harry had a humility about him that made him so endearing and mature. The list was endless, really. He was a lot of great things. 

In the end, the truth was that the racing world had a lot of people, but most of them were lonely. Louis was just glad there was someone he could sit next to when everyone else was too busy running around, doing their own thing. He could sit next to Harry and listen to him go off about how Gemma was the best racer, roll his eyes whenever Harry complimented his arse in his racing suit, glare at him when he had that cocky grin on his face, and wrap his arms around Harry when he needed a good cry after a long day. It all worked fine. 

“I’m getting cold, do you want to go rest?”

Harry’s voice, low and delicate, was the perfect anchor to reality. He sounded far away through the water, but Louis felt him close by. He opened his eyes and realized Harry was looking down at him with a quirked lip, a curved smile that was barely peeking through him. He looked serene.

Louis considered his answer, and he nodded, “Yeah, I think I’m finally ready to sleep.”

Climbing out of the pool took a little caution since Louis still had the stabilizer on his foot. Harry was attentive and complaisant as he gave Louis his arm, letting him hold on to the crook in his elbow for balance while the water dripped off Louis’’ relaxed shoulders and down his heavy swim shorts. 

They dried off in comfortable silence, the music still playing in the background. Louis was quick to place the towel around his waist. But, as he waited for Harry, he couldn’t help himself when his eyes wandered over Harry’s bare chest. He hadn’t noticed when they’d first arrived, too busy coming down from the day’s drama, but Harry had more than a fair share of tattoos all over his arms and chest. They were delicate and artful. He knew most of them had some sort of message. Probably something that would make Louis physically coil back if he asked. He knew Harry was capable of reaching high levels of corny.

His tattooed torso and arms weren’t the only thing Louis lingered on. His chest, biceps, and abdomen were _littered_ with a ridiculous amount of toned muscle. _Why would an artist need that much muscle?_

“Are you feeling better?”

Louis’ cheeks reddened. He’d definitely been caught— _again._ He cleared his throat and nodded. Harry was smiling sweetly at him; his towel draped around his neck, his body in full display. Louis refrained from running a lap around the pool to calm himself down. 

“Much,” Louis said with a rasp. Then he remembered where he was and why Harry asked that question. He hadn’t properly processed that he’d actually cried in front of him. “I needed to let it out. It’s going to surprise you how many criers there actually are in the Grands Prix. We’re very dramatic athletes.”

Harry chuckled but didn’t laugh, just pursed his lips and looked at Louis, serious as before, “Are you okay, though? Was it the crash that overwhelmed you?” 

_Overwhelmed._ Of all the words Harry could use, he was careful and thoughtful enough to use the word _overwhelmed_. He didn’t have to, he could easily say, ‘cry,’ ‘lose it,’ ‘made you so dramatic,’ ‘total drama queen,’ all the ones he’d heard before. But he did not.

Louis looked at the lift doors when they opened, then back into Harry’s calculating stare. They climbed on. He shrugged lightly, not sure what to say, “Driving is like dialing any emotion to a hundred percent. There’s so many moments when you just forget who your principals are. You just snap at them, you yell, or you cuss them out because there’s so much going on. I’ve had my fair share of fights with Liam on and off the track. It’s not an easy lifestyle. I think today a lot of things piled on to me, and I couldn’t take it,” Louis admitted. 

“I could tell,” Harry was looking at him, always looking at him so carefully, like he was trying to read a book in a language he couldn’t understand, “I saw it up close in Formula 2. Gemma went through hell some days,” Harry said, “It’s like you never know what will happen. Not everyone walks away from every race in one piece… or at all,” There was a chilly tone in his voice. Fear.

“It gets like that. But, you have to get used to it. The first race, the Monaco race, and the last race are three of the most intense Grands Prix. For me, it’s also Bahrain, because of the accident.”

Harry nodded and toed his hotel fit flip against the metal wall of the lift, “I’m actually excited, I always wanted to see Formula 1 in person. Never had the time with my job,” Harry said with a side smile, looking at the ceiling when the lift rang and the doors finally slid open.

“Well it’ll be a pleasure to watch you, watch me win,” Louis added quickly, trying to return to some sense of normalcy. “I also hope you know this doesn’t change anything.”

Harry climbed off the lift and rolled his eyes, turning to look at Louis with the same infuriating smirk on his face, “I was counting on it. I can’t wait to keep flirting with you,” Harry tipped an imaginary hat off. Always with the dramatics.

“I can’t wait to keep watching all that air go straight to your head,” Louis threw back as the doors slid closed again. All he heard going up was the faint sound of Harry laughing softly, then, “Good night, 28!”

What an ass.


	5. V

“Tommo, I don’t know what radioactive bug bit you, but keep doing how you’re doing, we’ll be kings of testing week mate,” Ben announced on their private line, not broadcasted on TV. 

Louis laughed shakily, the cabin from his freshly recovered Ferrari trembling with the speed, down toward turn 1 of his 40th lap. He was filled with newfound energy. The fastest lap ever recorded in the circuit was 1:18:44 by Hugo Chevalier, a year ago. He was ready to break it.

Louis was ready to keep his place at number one, closing testing week like proper winners. Just this once, screw the Styles’, he had a bloody time to beat. 

“Tommo, are you trying it?” Ben’s voice called over, and Louis confirmed over the mic.

Just as Louis passed a giant Jumbotron to the side of the track, he caught a quick glimpse of Harry’s face, blasted around the whole circuit. He was being shown to the cameras, probably for TV streaming of the last day of testing. 

Louis couldn’t help but feel his cheeks warm up when he saw Harry was blinking against the soft sun rays, one hand protecting his eyes as he watched in full concentration, Louis’s passing red car. He had the tiniest smile on his lips, and he looked proper proud, which only made Louis’s cheeks redden even more. He silently thanked whoever invented helmets, for covering his school-girl blush. Honestly, Louis, get a grip.

Without a second thought, Louis reached the starting line and let his brain come completely back to the track. Here we go. 

Accelerating down the first four turns, Louis felt quietly at ease, not losing any speed as he cautiously attempted to speed up around open turns and slow down as little as possible in tight corners. He listened to Niall’s ‘number talk,’ which was basically him dictating where his drive was going should he alter certain aspects of their strategy to go even faster. Liam said Niall’s job was to politely tell them when they were driving like dumbasses with his five years of physics and engineering degree.

It worked, though, because Niall was one of the best in the game, and he knew exactly how to navigate a driver toward a sure victory. It was one of the many reasons why most teams were constantly trying to steal Niall away since he’d lead Louis and Liam to their first constructor’s championship with Ferrari four years ago. He was funny and compassionate, but he also had the biggest brain, and he was horribly good at maths. 

“The road’s yours Tommo,” Niall said happily, and Louis understood it was code for ‘listen to your instincts we’ve got it in the bag anyway,’ so Louis complied and he feathered on the gas down toward the last four turns before he completed the lap.

+

“To Tommo and Payno, for being the best fucking drivers this season has, and for bravely getting on the karts while we got good grades in maths,” Niall said with his own champagne flute, and the whole pit box laughed because it was true. 

“Hear hear!” Ben cheered, and the Ferrari crew clapped and cheered for Louis and Liam, technicians and general staff clapping Louis’s shoulder and hugging him tightly, praising him in Italian. 

“Grazie, Grazie. Che questo sia l’anno migliore della nostra carriere!” Louis said with his flute raised, and everyone cheered again. _Thank you, thank you. May this be the best year of our careers._

One of the best things Louis had learned from his years in the Scuderia was that Italian was a courtesy when driving their cars. Most of the technicians and sponsors were Italian, and under stressful situations in the track, it was always easier to talk to some engineers in their native tongue. Plus, Louis had been excited to learn it on day one. 

“Salute!” Ben said, and they all clinked their glasses again. 

It was fun, and their small celebratory toast went by for half an hour before everyone trickled out of the track and to rest until their first big race down under.

“I’m proud of you, Lou,” Liam said to Louis when there was no one there but the two of them and a few other people milling at the back, talking over a replay of the last testing run. 

“What did I do?”

“Well,” Liam said and widened his eyes to make a point, setting down his empty glass then looking at Louis, “You just finished testing week with the fastest lap _ever_ in this circuit, and got us most team laps after my two off-days,” Liam said holding his hands to Louis’s shoulders like he wanted to shake him to understand how important that was. 

Louis felt his cheeks flush _again,_ and he sighed tightly, biting his smile when he looked at Liam, who was still looking intently at him.

Then Liam’s face became more serious when he let his hands fall to his sides again. “I noticed the crash from yesterday left you shaken up, but I knew you were in good hands when Harry broke into our box to ask for your thorough health report. That boy’s the sweetest. Zayn was almost fainting because he was fangirling so hard,” Liam chuckled, and Louis felt his eyes thin into a suspicious glare, Harry even had Liam thoroughly brain-washed. 

“But, most importantly,” Liam said, ignoring Louis, “you’re here after everything from last year. I don’t know how you did it, Lou. I don’t know. I’m so proud because you survived and went through _so_ much, and you’re here on the other side of all that _shit,”_ He spit the word out, and Louis knew Liam was probably picturing the moment he punched Leonard so hard he almost passed out. Louis breathed— he closed his eyes and willed his mind to fade the image away, “I’m glad you’re still here after all that pain. I’m glad Holland’s rotting while you get to thrive and succeed, doing what you love most. But, I’m also glad that on top of that, Harry’s sort of appeared out of the blue like the perfect complement to everything else.”

Louis felt a sort of panic bubble in his chest, so he shook his head quickly, “It’s not like that with Harry,” He mumbled through his teeth, and Liam snorted loudly, patting his shoulder sympathetically. 

“I’m sure it isn’t. This is all so _angsty_ ,” Liam gushed, and Louis pushed him away hard, laughing. Liam was making kissing noises at his face. 

“Louis!” Harry’s voice came from the other side of the box, and Louis spotted him wearing a lose frilly lilac shirt with high-waisted white pants, his hair tousled and curly; his greek god hair. He should’ve looked like a dick, but Louis had to admit the horribly loud outfit suited him nicely. He stood in the midst of all the heavy equipment and machines with his signature dimpled smile, bright green eyes, and awkward imposing height—a glaring contrast of lilac among all the bright red.

“That’s my cue,” Liam said softly and smiled at Harry, “See you mate!”

Harry waved as Liam took off in the general direction that Zayn had gone, then turned immediately to Louis with the smirk ™, “Congratulations, 28.” 

“Thanks,” Louis said, looking at the floor and avoiding Harry’s smile, he wasn’t in the mood to be hypnotized with Harry’s demon powers at the moment, thank you. Louis nudged his head at Harry’s general self, “You look properly dressed. Are you celebrating second place over at Mercedes?”

Harry cracked half a smile and nodded, raising his glass that had water instead of champagne in it. Louis would ask at some point.

“We sure are.”

“How’s Gemma feeling after her first week?”

“Nervous,” Harry balanced on the balls of his feet, “She’s just excited for the real deal.”

Louis nodded, remembering his own butterfly filled stomach when he was so close to racing for the first time in Australia, “She’ll love this season. Racing’s never been better. She’s got a good year.”

Harry set the champagne glass down, “Are you going to that party later?”

Louis paused and remembered there indeed was a party later at a nice hotel somewhere in Barcelona. Louis knew it would be filled to the brim with every single racer, technician, and staff member, to celebrate the end of the beginning. It was supposed to be fun, and Louis briefly thought he needed to get out of his hotel room more, see the city. He nodded, “Yeah, probably. If not for me, then for Liam’s sake. I’ll never hear the end of it if I skip for no reason.”

Harry’s face lit up instantly. He nodded, “Then you’ll grant me a dance tonight. A slow song, not the ones you have to jump around to,” He said decidedly-- like Louis would definitely do it.

He scoffed, “And, why would I grant you a dance?”

“Because it’ll be good press, and you’ll make a dull night better,” Harry explained with warm eyes. 

See, up until now, Harry had been all devilish, teasing smirks and banter. He’d been flirtatious passes that meant nothing, batting eyelashes that were supposed to entrance him, and cheesy jokes that made Louis scrunch his face in agony. Now, Harry was genuine, putting himself on the line to ask for a dance with a tentative tilt of his head.

Louis threw his head back and groaned, “I _hate_ dancing. It’s like you’ve made it your mission to do things that embarrass me. I look like a drunk chicken when I dance, and especially if I’m tipsy; there’s no escape, I _will_ dance, and my friends will definitely record it and post it everywhere.”

“Then there’s no downside,” He said, seeming amused, “I’ll be the one in glitter,” He winked flawlessly and left as he often did, leaving Louis absolutely baffled. 

+

“Lotts, are you sure this is okay?” Louis asked his phone, sitting perched against the desk light in his room. 

“Stop being a wuss. This is the perfect outfit. I planned it, especially for this. It’s bloody _gorgeous._ Plus, you look handsome in it, so no more whining,” His sister scolded him through their FaceTime call from London, where she was busy on her laptop, typing away an e-mail in her apartment living room. 

“I’ve never worn anything like this. Isn’t it too much?” Louis asked uncertainly where he stood in front of the full-body mirror in his closet. The suit was black— a Balmain piece. It had golden embroidered Chinese dragons along the lapels of the jacket, which went down all the way to the hem. It also had some detailing in the elbows. Lottie had packed it along with two other suits before he’d left for Barcelona. The pants were a simple continuation of the jacket, with a thin golden line at both sides. 

“It isn’t too much,” She insisted, turning from her computer to look at Louis through her phone, “If Harry Styles and Zayn are going to be there then a simple black suit will make you fade into the crowd. Everyone’s going to be wearing the same thing— get some confidence and rock the shit out this.”

Louis pursed his lips, giving himself a once over again with his styled new haircut. He did like how it looked, and he supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to step out of his comfort zone for a change. He shrugged, “You’re my stylist; I trust your judgment.”

“You better bloody trust it. I didn’t go to a fantastic fashion school so you could question me now,” She protested, her nails clicking noisily as she returned to her laptop. She was frowning, reading over her own words. 

“How’s mum?” He asked, walking toward his phone, so Lottie could see his face.

“She’s okay. She got into a right fit yesterday, but she’s calmer today. Fiz and I pumped her full of tea until she could talk about something other than F1 and crashes. Yesterday there was no distracting her until Liam called; she calmed down when you rang as well.”

“I had to, I know how she gets, and I didn’t want you guys worrying over me. It was nothing,” He insisted though he could still see the tiny scrape in his cheek reflected in his phone screen.

Lottie then stopped typing abruptly and looked at her computer blankly. Then, she turned to the camera, looking solemnly at her brother, “I know it was nothing cause you’re fine but,” She paused, hesitating, “You did take a while to move. Did something else happen in there that made you freeze?” 

Louis knew what she meant. _Did you see Leonard again, like in the nightmares?_

Almost like a sudden blanket falling over them, Louis felt a shiver run up his spine, dread heavy in his stomach. He hadn’t said anything to anyone yet. He knew his therapist would insist he had to, so there was no point in denying it to his sister anyway, he had to tell someone. 

“There was,” He confirmed quietly, sitting down by the edge of his bed, swallowing thickly. Lottie was listening. “I began to see sort of flashes, from the same night I relived in my night terrors. It was Leonard standing over me the night he-,” Louis really tried to stay strong and not let his voice waver, but the second he felt his eyes sting, there was no going back. “I just heard this ringing right as I crashed like I did that night after everything. I guess it triggered me back. I couldn’t stop it,” Louis wiped the single tear rolling down his cheek, sighing so he could release some of the pent up sadness, welled like a pit in his chest. 

“How did you feel afterward, any drag? Lingering flashes?”

“Not really, there was so much going on I didn’t have a chance to dwell on it. An upside, I guess,” He said, looking at Lottie’s piercing blue eyes, analyzing him like a computer. 

“Well, tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be at the airport waiting, so I’ll hug the stress out of you. Have fun tonight and forget about it, yeah?” She seemed torn like she just wanted to reach through the phone and comfort him. His heart ached to have his family with him right then, “I’m always here, Lou, your personal shoulder to cry on about anything and everything. Just let all of this go tonight, and dance really bad with your friends,” She chuckled, and Louis laughed too, rolling his partially wet eyes at her. Liam shot him a text saying they were ready to leave. 

“Will do, I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m landing,” He said, standing and grabbing his wallet from the desk. 

“Okay, love you, big bro. See you. Have fun!”

“Love you more. Bye.”

The sudden quiet of the room left Louis with enough space to shake his shoulders and roll his head a few times, loosening his muscles gradually. He always felt tense and coiled tight when he talked about Leonard, so he knew he had to do this if he wanted to have a nice time tonight. He needed a few drinks too.

“Let’s get this over with.”

+

True to Lottie’s words, Zayn was wearing a bright red suit that looked too good on him. He had a red turtle neck under his jacket and a few black rings, along with a fake piercing on his lip—bloody Greek god.

Liam was dressed more casually in a black suit with a black shirt. The hair also styled neatly. They looked like the picture-perfect couple, and Louis couldn’t help but let a smile escape him. He really did love them together, always had. 

Zayn and Liam met three years ago at a racing event where Zayn had looked bored out of his mind. Liam had almost passed out when he’d spotted him in the crowd, all by himself looking uncomfortably at all the unfamiliar faces. Louis had to give Liam the longest speech imaginable and some wine before he gathered the courage to introduce himself. It was a lovely fairy tale that made Louis ache for his own. He’d never told anyone that.

“Wow,” Liam said once Louis reached them in the lobby. He ran his fingers along Louis’s golden lapels and smiled proudly, “Lottie’s a fucking genius mate.”

“I’ll have to sit her down and ask for some tips, that’s beautiful,” Zayn added softly, looking at Louis from Liam’s shoulder where he had his chin propped. 

Louis’s cheeks reddened, and he sighed, exasperated, “Don’t tell _me_ , you both look like cool a villain couple from a comic book.”

Zayn pumped his fist in the air, “Fuck yeah! I told you we did,” He cheered, looking excited at Liam. “It was my idea, and Liam said we just looked fancy.”

Liam rolled his eyes fondly, “Fine, we do. Let’s go before Ben starts asking where we are.”

“Sore loser,” Zayn whispered, and Liam nudged him playfully, laughing.

“I’m the third wheel to the cutest love story,” Louis chimed in.

“Yeah, yeah, tell that to Harry tonight,” Zayn threw back, climbing into their limousine. Liam’s surprised laugh was coming from inside.

Louis was going to bite back with something but refrained. Instead, he climbed into the cabin and letting his mind be distracted by their snickering.

+

The party was almost at full swing by the time they arrived. Walking in, the blaring music was already thumping, making the walls shake, people dancing on the dance floor, and a DJ on top of a stage screaming into his mic. Louis breathed in and braced himself.

“Let’s do shots,” Zayn said over the music to the two of them, and Liam and Louis nodded.

There was an open bar tonight, and a lot of the waiters were walking around with all sorts of trays with different drinks. Louis flagged one with a tray of shots, and he sprung to them.

“Do you reckon anything gossipy will go down tonight?” Liam asked, looking around the people passing them by. There were multi-colored lights all over, and a lot of cocktail dresses dragged along the floor, tables were strewn about with some groups on their phones and others laughing over all the chatter and bass.

“Maybe, from right here, I can see Tinn Adulet is snogging a different girl from the one at the circuit today. Andino’s definitely dating that sports analyst from ESPN, and,” Zayn paused and cooed with a delighted look, “ _Oh_ , look at that, Petrovich’s wife is pregnant again.”

Louis threw his head back and laughed loudly, “Oh my god, that was fast. I have enough gossip to last me three parties now.”

The waiter broke through their tiny circle and lowered the tray with various shots.

“Here goes nothing,” Liam cheered, and they all immediately threw back their shot, grimacing when they swallowed. “It burns,” Louis lamented, he hadn’t had a drink since New Year’s, and he also remembered how dreadful the hangover had been in the morning. 

“Mmhm, I’ll stick to wine for tonight,” Zayn agreed, “This stopped being fun when I passed 25.”

Louis nodded in agreement, and Liam stood on his toes, squinting his eyes before he smiled, “I think I see Niall,” He said, then waved exaggeratedly big. Louis turned and spotted him too. 

Niall made his way through the crowd carefully, balancing two glasses of rosé. Once he stepped over someone’s very long train, he cheered loudly over the noise, “Wey hey! Hi, lads.”

Zayn hugged him cautiously so he wouldn’t spill his drinks, and Liam patted his back lightly. Niall gestured to their outfits, “I reckon you’ll turn heads tonight. That’s sick!” He said, looking at Louis’s suit. “Very different from your plain black pieces. Obviously, Lottie’s work.”

Louis rolled his eyes but laughed good-heartedly, “It was, yes,” He gestured to the two drinks and raised his eyebrows, “Who are you bringing the other glass to?”

Niall seemed to consider if he should answer when Gemma suddenly appeared at his side in a gorgeous burgundy silk dress that fit her body perfectly. She was wearing her platinum blonde hair loose down to her shoulders, and her makeup matched her dress perfectly. She glowed. Maybe it was genetic.

“Hi guys,” Gemma said with an excited grin. She stood by Niall’s side, taking one of the glasses of champagne. Liam and Louis’s jaws dropped. She thanked Niall sweetly and pecked his cheek. Zayn remained blissfully calm. She looked at all of them, “Sick fits.”

“Thank you,” They all said in unison, but slowly. “You look gorgeous, I love that dress,” Zayn added kindly over them. 

While they’d all gone to the fair and they _had_ separated in twos, maybe Liam and Louis were much thick-headed than Zayn, who seemed to know there’d been something going on between Gemma and Niall since the first day.

“Oh, thank you! I don’t usually wear this sort of thing, but Harry insisted it was the best option,” She said and made a face like _what can you do._ Louis did _not_ get partially nervous at the mention of his name, because he was fine. Harry didn’t affect him. He didn’t mind when Harry would show up.

Zayn chuckled and nodded, “Yes, we take clothes _very_ seriously. Have you been backstage before a runway?”

Gemma laughed knowingly and turned her attention fully to Zayn, “I have, it’s insane. What’s your worst experience?”

Louis decided he needed a bit of space to walk around the party. Between the loud music and the suspense of Harry probably appearing next to him at any moment, there was enough tension to make him want to head straight for the bar.He excused himself from their conversation and managed to get to the back without recognizing anyone yet, aside from the racers.

“What would you like, sir?” A bartender asked politely.

“Champagne, please,” He asked quietly.

While waiting for his drink, Louis felt a hand on his shoulder, so he turned.

“Louis! How are you, man?” Antonio Lacasa said, smiling. He was wearing a light blue suit that was fitted perfectly to his body.

Louis smiled back at him and let Antonio come into a hug, “I’m good, man, yeah. This party seems nice.”

Antonio nodded, “Yeah, it’s sick. The music’s great,” He sipped the drink in his hand and raised his eyebrows, “Hey, I just wanted to say your driving today was spectacular. It reminded me of your Monaco run in 2015. Absolute legend stuff,” Antonio praised. 

Louis was surprised to know he still managed to impress Antonio with his driving, “Oh, thank you very much. I’d thought that since you’ve seen me driving for two years now, the magic had worn off.”

“Not at all! If anything, I’m excited to race against you this year. You seem better than ever before. Don’t know what you’re doing, but if you keep it up, you’ll beat out Aston Evan Smith mate. It’ll be an honor to see it.”

Louis couldn’t help but feel butterflies multiply in his stomach at the mere thought of that happening. To become the best racer in the history of Formula 1. Beating English legend Aston Evan Smith meant that he’d be five years younger than when Aston set the record for most wins at a Grand Prix in 2006. It felt surreal and light-years away, but at the same time, he knew that with 13 Grands Prix wins this year, he’d beat out Aston Evan and seal his name in the Motorsport Hall of Fame. 

“I know that the odds are a little tight to make it this year, but I’m sure if you keep up the good spirit, it’ll happen,” Antonio said, looking excited like it was him that was very close to accomplishing it.

“It is, but if it’s meant to happen, it’ll work out. If not, it’s always been about the racing, not the titles anyway, I can wait two more years,” Louis shrugged, reaching to the bar behind him where the waiter had left his champagne. It was true. While it excited him beyond measure to even consider what the accomplishment would mean, there was still a big part of him that wasn’t in any hurry.

When Antonio said that the odds were ‘tight,’ he meant that Louis had never won more than eleven races in a year. He’d consecutively won the last three seasons with no more than eleven wins. 

“I’m sure it will. I shouldn’t, but I’m rooting for you,” Antonio said in a whisper, then extended his drink. Louis smiled bashfully and let his own glass clink against his. “I’ll let you go now because my director’s been flagging me down since he spotted me five minutes ago.”

Louis chuckled amused and nodded, “Please, and thank you, Antonio. I appreciate it.”

Antonio walked away backward and raised his glass one last time before he disappeared with the crowd.

Louis turned back around. It was too much to think about the year’s odds at the moment, and he wasn’t about to ruin his own buzz. He rolled his shoulders fast then asked the same bartender for another glass, downing the one he’d been sipping on. He sat down in the fancy clear stool then went back to watching the crowd.

There were mostly technicians and racers jumbled together in different tables; their dates were strewn about in conversation, a few white heads among the crowd, and about 20 people on the dance floor. Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Gemma were still tangled in their little group laughing about something Niall was explaining energetically, and Louis felt his eyes crinkle to a smile. He loved his friends. 

The waiter placed his drink neatly under a napkin, and Louis thanked him again, picking the glass up and sipping slowly. He refrained from making any sounds, but the champagne was spectacularly tasty and strong. 

He savored his drink, feeling relaxed. He tried his best to take advantage of the time he had by himself. But then, Elvis was suddenly playing over the speakers and thoughts about his ex-boyfriend bubbled near the surface on his train of thought once more. The prick couldn’t leave him alone, not even in his fucking head.

Louis didn’t usually frequent parties since Leonard didn’t like them, and so Louis got used to not going too. He used to convince himself he wasn’t interested in seeing his friends. Leonard had a way of making Louis believe everything he imposed on him was fine, and that Louis only let him because couples compromised. 

They never went on dates, to the movies, or to concerts, because Leonard hated crowds. They barely got out of their shared flat because Leonard got irritated by traffic. Louis started making excuses about why he couldn’t see Liam other than at the races, and why he had bruises in the oddest places. (It was always at the gym, always because he’d been clumsy,and the bruises were everywhere in his arms and back).

Louis didn’t often revisit the three years he gave to Leonard Holland, mainly because it was painful, but really because, if he was honest with himself, there were many things he hadn’t resolved or forgotten— things that still burned hot like an open wound. If his emotional health was metaphorically physical, then there were gashes and cuts deep enough to make the bravest wince in pain. 

He never let himself get too far into his thoughts, because he always inevitably ended up in a bad mood, or in the worst of cases, a panic attack in public. He knew it was safe to skim over his trauma every once in a while, but any further, and he was terrified he could never come back. So, Louis breathed in three times, then out three times, slowly— an exercise that helped him be grounded to the present. Then, he let his focus be on anything other than his memories. 

Of course, his focus fell instantly on the most interesting thing his eye could spot. Harry Styles entering the party, looking like a man parting the seas. He wore the very essence of glitter; there was no other way to describe it—the shiniest outfit Louis had ever seen. Purple shining coat and pants made up the suit, while the pussy-bow shirt underneath was a sparkling collage of golden glitter. There was golden detailing along the sleeves and the sides of the pants that put Louis’s coat to shame. 

The waiter from before refilled his champagne glass once more, and Louis did not hesitate to almost down it right there. Fuck sipping. Harry Styles looked gorgeous.

Harry was shaking hands and kissing cheeks the moment people saw him walk in. There were some girls who were instantly gushing over his outfit, playing with the sleeves, and touching the fabric of his golden shirt. He let them, talking calmly about something that had the girls nodding their heads, chuckling when he smiled. He talked for a while with them before he removed himself from their group with the most charming smile. Louis asked for another glass.

Harry kept moving along the crowds, and a few elderly men at a table pulled him in once they spotted him, smiling at him while telling him something. He now had a polite smile on his face with no dimples, just wide enough to make him seem pleasantly entertained by their conversation. No more than a minute passed before he excused himself and walked away from the men’s table. He looked around the room with furrowed brows, eyes squinting as he looked over the heads of most people, seeming to look for someone.

Antonio suddenly materialized at Harry’s side, and once Harry saw him, he smiled and approached him with the same polite smile, hugging him briefly with a pat to the back. They talked, and Antonio gestured to Harry’s outfit with a grin. Harry looked down at his suit too, like it was the first time he was looking at it. Always a charm.

Just as they were talking, Louis caught sight of a group of boys at a table nearby, who were laughing obnoxiously loud, whispering while they looked Harry’s outfit up and down. His stomach dropped with disbelief.

Louis felt something hot and prickly at the back of his neck that made his fingers twitch. It was the same feeling he got when he dropped off seven-year-olds Daisy and Phoebe at school in princess costumes because they refused to get out of them. That day, Louis made sure to glare at every kid who stared too long. He’d always been that way with all his sisters. 

Now, he looked at Harry’s glimmering outfit sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of black— a literal human disco ball— and he just wanted to glare at anyone who whispered amongst their groups, pointing with a frown at Harry’s back, when he couldn’t notice.

It made his skin crawl, and he felt his mum’s impulsiveness come alive in him. He grabbed his freshly refilled flute of champagne and walked fast toward the group of guys. He weaved and crossed through people, feeling a hot weight in his stomach. He reached them, one of them had a Ferrari pin stuck to the lapel of his black coat. Louis smirked.

“-Why the fuck would you wear _that_ though like-” One of the boys said before Louis rounded their table and stood before all of them, blocking their view of Harry. The first boy immediately stopped talking. They all looked at Louis, stunned into silence.

“L-Louis Tomlinson, sir, what a pleasure,” The one with the Ferrari pin said stepping forward, and Louis could’ve mistaken him for a sweet fan at an event, except he’d seen him pointing at Harry with a frown like it bothered him terribly to see a guy with a glittering suit. Louis was not having it.

“Evening gentlemen. I came by here because I noticed you seemed to be talking about Harry’s outfit, yeah?” Louis asked, amused, playing along. He willed his boiling blood to simmer down.

“Y-yeah, it’s just quite faggy s’all,” Another boy said, chuckling. They were under the impression that Louis was there to make fun of Harry as well. 

“We were saying that he’d probably gone into the women’s section to get that shite,” The Ferrari pin boy added, laughing more enthusiastically, his two friends laughed too.

“Yeah, mate, like what the fuck? This isn’t the fucking pride parade,” Added the third snidely.

Louis took a deep breath and convinced himself not to punch the shit out of the little asses, “I see,” He said to them, looking back at Harry, still chatting amicably with Antonio, unaware of Louis’s presence or what was going on behind him. 

Louis looked back at the boys with a dark expression, “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that Harry there is a very dear friend of mine, and what you said earned you all one-way tickets to the exit marked over there, and a year-long ban from Formula 1 events anywhere. I will make sure your names are blacklisted, so scurry along before I get in a sour mood and extend the ban to the rest of your sorry lives.”

The three boys seemed stunned into horrified silence. The Ferrari pin boy seemed ready to cry.

“S-sir, we didn’t mean that we are-”

“What _you_ are is nauseatingly homophobic, so don’t say another word. You seem to forget three racers in F1 are gay, including me. So, you’ve not only insulted my friend Harry there but racer Liam Payne, racer Elliot Clark _and_ I, so go now before security escorts you out.”

The three boys shook like leaves as they nodded briefly, quickly looking at the entrance before they bee-lined for it, not looking at anyone on the way.

Louis paused for a second to breathe out all the anger. He felt his heart gradually calm down. He made quick work of getting his phone from his pocket. Then he dialed the head of security’s number on his contact list.

“Hey Lou, what’s up?” Paul Higgins answered. There was the faint sound of music coming from his side of the line, meaning he was somewhere outside managing the security guards.

“Hi Paul, I just sent three boys from the party. I need you to write their names down and blacklist them from every single race, party, and fundraiser until this time next year, please.”

“Sure, I think I see them. The three coming out right now?”

“Yep.”

“Got them, I’ll list their names. Any parting message?”

“Sure, ‘Go be homophobes somewhere else.’”

Paul laughed loudly, and Louis couldn’t help but smile, feeling his chest get lighter.

“Consider it done, have fun, Lou.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, and once he hung up, he turned to look for Harry, but immediately came face to face with a very golden shirt. His brows raised in surprise once he realized Harry was just standing there.

Looking up, Louis immediately saw the touched expression on Harry’s face, which only made his cheeks fire up instantly. “How long have you been here?”

Harry had the warmest smile, his eyes full of fondness. Louis looked at the floor, embarrassed. 

“You defended me,” He said happy, so full of surprise.

Louis raised a brow in offense, looking up at Harry’s taller frame, “Well, of course, I did. It’s bloody 2020; there’s no fucking excuse to be a homophobe,” He said and then rubbed his neck and shrugged, “Plus, I like your suit. Nobody can say it isn’t the coolest thing anyone’s ever worn to a party.”

“Oh,” Harry said in awe, and Louis could swear there was a wet twinkle in the corner of his eye, “Thank you, Gucci made it for me.”

Louis snorted and rolled his eyes, heart racing, “Of course they did.”

“Heeeey,” Harry protested, amused like at the fair with Gemma, his dimples in full display, his eyes crinkled shut in a grin.

_Louis breathe, breathe right the fuck now. It’s just plain annoying Harry in a pretty suit, be strong._

“You owe me that dance,” Harry said gleefully, nudging his head to the dance floor where Careless Whisper was starting to play.

“Aren’t we even? I threw those assholes out in your honor, don’t make me dance,” Louis begged over the sound of conversations and music.

Harry pursed his lips and shook his head apologetically, then extended his hand for Louis, “I’m sorry, but it must be done.”

Prick.

Louis looked down at Harry’s big hand covered in different gold rings, waiting for Louis to take it, then to the semi-crowded dance floor where Zayn and Liam were gently swaying to the music. Eyes closed, leaning their heads on each other’s shoulders.

“Ah, what the hell,” Louis mumbled under his breath and took Harry’s hand in his own, realizing in quick panic that the artist’s hand engulfed his completely. Which was fine. Everything was okay and not attractive. Strong, Louis.

Harry pulled Louis around the various tables where part of the guests looked at his outfit immediately. Louis made sure to look back and see if anyone wanted to join the blacklist, but those who stared smiled and commented excitedly about Harry. Louis breathed out. 

After the tables, there was the lit-up dance floor with the DJ on the stage swaying by himself to Wham! The couples were all dancing and looking into each other’s eyes. It was very romantic, and Louis felt his body sweating with anxiousness. Harry and him slow dancing? It was fine. Not romantic at all. Just two pals at a party.

“Relax Louis,” Harry suddenly whispered into his ear, and Louis realized they were now in the middle of the dance floor, already dancing. Harry had his gigantic hands wrapped around Louis’s waist, holding him dangerously close, while Louis had his own arms wrapped tense around Harry’s neck. Right, relax. 

_Louis only briefly thought that he enjoyed how Harry’s lips said his name, but that was neither here nor there._

“Sorry, I haven’t done this in a long time,” Louis said abashedly. He looked down at their feet, and the ball of anxiety in his stomach grew. Fuck, he had two left feet for anything that wasn’t driving. “If I step on your toes, don’t take it personally. My feet probably want revenge for making them dance.” 

Harry snorted and hid his face in the crook of Louis’s neck and shoulder, his hot breath seeping right through Louis’s suit and into his skin. Louis almost shivered when he felt goosebumps rise along his arms. He could feel every place where Harry and him were touching, from the hands on his waist, to their chests lightly brushing after every step, the ends of Harry’s soft curly hair tickling his cheek. Louis worried Harry could hear, or feel, how fast his heart was beating, how pronounced his pulse was under his suit. 

He was nervous, and he didn’t know why, though he suspected his subconscious knew more than he did.It didn’t help when the previous song was over, and the speakers played a very familiar violin intro. Louis could feel his body begin to get hot when he realized how romantic it was. Where did the bloody alcohol go? He’d had like four champagne glasses and a shot. 

_Etta, you’ve betrayed me._

“ _At last,” Harry’s_ soft baritone suddenly sang softly in his ear. Louis’s breath hitched, and he felt his head move to look at Harry, who was leaning into the side of his face, “ _My love has come along.”_

_“_ What are you doing?” Louis asked just as quietly, but Harry didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled back and straightened, looking down into Louis’s eyes, shrugging amused. “ _My lonely days are over,”_ He lip-synched dramatically, then made Louis spin where they held hands. 

Louis yelped in surprise but quickly caught his footing, “Harry Styles, what are you _doing?”_ He insisted trying to remain serious, though Harry’s closed-mouthed grin broke him. Louis laughed.

“ _And life is like a song,”_ He sang along again, pulling Louis close to his chest. This time in a different hold, Harry moved them carefully along the dance floor, avoiding hitting other people, “ _Oh yeah yeah, a_ _t last,”_ Harry sang breezily, and Louis rolled his eyes. He didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He was dead-set on singing to Louis.

“ _The skies above are blue,”_ Harry changed their stance to their original and looked shamelessly into Louis’s eyes, his stare going down to his lips every so often. One of his hands held the small of Louis’s back gently, “ _My heart was wrapped up, in clover.”_

Warmth bloomed in his chest. Louis let his hands move from Harry’s shoulders. Instead, he intertwined his fingers around Harry’s neck, relaxing in his arms.

“ _The night I looked at you,”_ Harry kept on serenading softly, a smirk on his lips. So close, they were a breath away. 

_I found a dream that I could speak to_

“Is this how the rest of this dance will go?” 

“No, I just really love that song. It’s beautiful,” Harry said through the instrumental part, “Are you bored of me yet?”

Louis wanted to answer with something cocky, something with bite. All he managed was a quiet, “No,” And he meant it.

“Good,” Harry murmured, satisfied, and kept swaying.

“Are you enjoying the attention the suit brought?” Louis asked softly, not teasing, but actually curious. He didn’t want to disrupt the bubble of quiet they had formed around themselves. Harry looked down at Louis and scrunched his face in consideration; then, he scanned the room quickly.

_A dream that I can call my own_

“I guess I don’t really mind. I don’t wear my clothes for anyone else. I like how it looks, so I put it on. I don’t care one bit if it bothers people or not,” He said definitely, a small curve at the side of his very plump pink lips. 

_I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I had never known_

“That’s good. Most people don’t,” Louis said, self-depreciatingly, feeling embarrassed now for having doubted his suit. It was such a meaningless thing to think about. Of course, Lottie had been right. As always.

“Do you usually wear suits like this?” Harry asked, curious too. His eyes were rapt with attention for Louis, and no one else. 

Louis nodded, “It is, but only because my younger sister, Lottie, is a recently graduated fashion designer, and she’s sort of always been my stylist,” He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down to Harry’s lips again. A hint of stubble, “But, nobody can win against you, Harry. You look lovely.”

_You smiled, you smiled_

“I hope someday I can meet Lottie, she’s probably just as wonderful as her brother,” Harry winked and swayed them along, “And thank you for saying that. You look wonderful too.”

_Oh, and then the spell was cast_

“You’re welcome,” Louis replied, looking up at Harry without saying anything else. Comfortable silence enveloped them warmly.

_And here we are in heaven, for you are mine._


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update! Please don't worry if I take longer than a few days to update. It only means that either the chapter will be longer than usual or I'm working extra-hard for it to be just right. Thank you so much for the support so far :)

In Harry’s hold, swaying to the closing violins, Louis looked away from Harry’s eyes and realized how close they were standing. They were leaning so close together that if they wrapped their arms around each other, it would become an embrace. It didn’t help that Louis was beginning to feel tipsy from the champagne. He was the lightest of weights with alcohol.

With that in mind, though, Louis threw caution to the wind and let his head rest sluggishly on Harry’s chest, closing his eyes, swaying to Shania Twain. He felt _safe._ He wasn’t going to dwell on it. Harry tensed only for half a second but remained quiet as they moved from side to side, not seeming to mind Louis nor his head on his chest. His hands were still tightly wound around Louis by the fourth song. His long, slender fingers were pressing gently on to Louis’s back, holding him close. No pain.

Leonard would’ve pressed harshly— trying to leave bruises. He would get so overwhelmed and irritated around people; he usually never noticed how cruel he was to Louis. 

Louis couldn’t help but contrast the painful memories with his present life. It was always like a voice screaming far away.

By the sixth song, Louis decided to move. Harry’s heartbeat was serving as nothing more than the perfect lullaby, and if he stayed there any longer, he would surely pass out right on top of him.

“Are you tired?” Harry asked when he noticed Louis’s sluggishness, looking too tenderly at him. 

“Yeah. I think the excitement of the day is catching up to me,” Louis mumbled, looking around to find that there were almost no other couples on the dance floor. He suspected the DJ was about to liven up the party again anyway. It was better to step out of the floor now.

“Do you want to go? I came in my rental,” He said with a questioning eyebrow, pointing at nowhere behind him— then he looked smug, “We could ride together,” Harry said, looking too pleased with himself. Louis finally pulled back from their dance position and rolled his eyes groaning. He began to walk away from the dance floor.

“Just when I was starting to _tolerate_ you.”

“My oh my, 28. We can’t have that. If you tolerate me, then we won’t banter anymore,” Harry answered, amused, walking right behind Louis, who was weaving through the tables toward the exit.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis trailed off, still walking.

“So, do you want to go in my car?” 

“Are you going to make everything sound like an innuendo?”

“Probably.”

“Whatever, let’s go. I’m too tired and tipsy to care anymore.”

+

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? It’s only 1 A.M., the real party doesn’t start till two-thirty, I assume,” Louis commented as the music from the party, and the booming bass became less deafening the further they walked from it.

Harry nodded with a small smile, seeming tranquil. His hands were tucked inside his pant’s pockets, and his eyes were cast to floor as they walked side by side.

Suddenly, a group of people passed by them in the hallway leading to the lobby. They were dressed spectacularly and looked like magazine cover models— all of them only just arriving at the hotel. They seemed like they’d stepped right out from The Great Gatsby movie. One of them, a tall blonde man with piercing grey eyes and a prominent jaw, had an actual bottle of Perrier-Jouët, and he was drinking straight from it, giggling and cheering when he spotted Harry along with the rest of the group.

“Harry Styles! As I live and breathe!” The blonde guy suddenly exclaimed, the very expensive bottle dangling from his fingers. He had on a smirk that didn’t look as charming as Harry’s, a lot more sinister, with eyes that looked almost empty of actual emotion. 

“Hello, Lance,” Harry greeted reluctantly. Louis frowned at him.

“Where have you been, darling? We saw you’re stepping back from the tour. How come?” The supposed ‘Lance’ asked seeming fake intrigued and worried. Though his voice sounded sympathetic, his whole facial expression looked almost plastic and predatory.

Louis fought not to grimace. If he’d thought Harry’s face ever looked ‘fake,’ he was deadly mistaken. These people looked like walking mannequins. Not a spot or blemish on their skin, clothes too smooth and perfect. It was chilling.

“Y-yeah just needed a break, I guess. Too much to keep up,” Harry admitted quietly, sounding _shy_ in the presence of the biggest losers Louis had ever met. What the fuck. They also hadn’t noticed or acknowledged he was standing right next to Harry.

“Oh, babe! What a shame. I swear your last sculpture did something to me, we’ll have to keep in touch, let us know when you return,” Lance said with a small pout that made Louis raise a questioning brow in his direction, confused at everything going on.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said, shrugging, his eyes on the floor. He looked behind himself at Louis, and his eyes widened like he’d momentarily forgotten Louis had been with him this whole time. “Oh, how rude of me. Lance, this is my friend Louis Tomlinson, racer for Ferrari. Louis, this is Lance Fraser, a model for Chanel, Prada, and a whole lot of other brands I can’t remember,” He chuckled hollowly. Louis shivered.

“Pleasure,” He said shortly, extending his hand, which Lance took and shook. He was looking at him with growing interest, his eyebrows slightly raised as he seemed to memorize Louis’s face.

“Pleasure’s all mine. I must say, you have gorgeous blue eyes,” Lance said flirtatiously, a smirk on his lips.

Louis felt his face heat up, a ball of uneasiness in his stomach. He really didn’t enjoy compliments. “Thanks,” He answered monotonously.

“We have to get going darling, but don’t be a stranger! We’ll meet up soon,” Lance said completely clueless, still eyeing Louis standing behind Harry. He looked at Harry when he went to kiss his cheek goodbye. “I hope I get to see more of you, Mr. Tomlinson,” Lance added, winking at Louis.

Louis stood still, uncertain of what just happened.

With a final flutter of gold and girls giggling, the group of people disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind a faint scent of expensive perfumes and cologne.

“What the fuck,” Louis said faintly to no one in particular, still dumbfounded.

Harry turned to him with a pursed lips, “I’m sorry,” He apologized, embarrassed by the group’s behavior. His whole glittering outfit shined brightly against the overhead chandeliers, casting shadows of light across the walls. Louis blinked a few times, processing everything.

“Who _were_ those people?” 

“My old group of friends.”

“They didn’t seem like the type of people to have friends. Just connections to get something out of you,” Louis commented, then looked down the hallway where they’d been. The party’s music was a soft thump that sounded far away now.

Harry sighed and rolled his shoulders, nodding with a troubled look, “That’s a great way to describe them. They aren’t very nice people.”

“Try at all,” Louis said distracted, then looked back at Harry, who was staring at him with a nervous expression.

“I’m sorry. They’re the best at being assholes, I never liked them,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck, “They’re one of the reasons I quit, actually.”

“Wait, wait. They didn’t like harass you or anything… right?” Louis asked uncertainly. His heart raced for a second, because it was a subject extremely close to him, and he couldn’t help but fear anyone he cared for living in the same nightmare he did.

“No! No, not at all. It’s just,” Harry paused, looking like he didn’t know if he could say anything. He hesitated, but then he gestured for them to keep walking. Louis followed suit, swallowing, and Harry tucked his hands back in his pant pockets. “Those guys are stupidly wealthy. Like ‘let’s get lunch in Athens and then come back here for dinner’ rich.”

Louis snorted and rolled his eyes. Of course, they were.

“They drink at 11 A.M, they model all over the world, they party until morning, and they do every drug imaginable,” Harry said and looked at Louis while still walking, his head turning every once in a while to analyze his expression, “When I hung out with them for the first time, I was around 19. I was fairly new to the art scene, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I just wanted to fit in really bad, and I guessed the best way to do that was to hang out with the famous kids-- the ‘big leagues.’ Artists, actors, singers. They took me in. They introduced me at parties; they recommended me to the biggest curators and directors; they were the ones who helped me meet contacts at MOMA. They’re powerful people. They get away with almost anything.”

Harry swallowed, “Lance got a DUI about a year ago, and nobody ever knew about it because he paid astronomical money to make it disappear. They cheat on everything. Relationships, jobs, the law— it’s like a really cheesy American series about mean girls with money,” Harry chuckled, but he didn’t look too amused, almost like he was trying not to seem too serious. Louis could see he had something else to say, and he could see Harry was still dwelling if he could say it or not.

“Harry, whatever this is about, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’d understand if you did something with them you don’t feel comfortable talking about.”

Harry stopped walking for a second and looked at Louis next to him. Louis stopped too and worried he’d said the wrong thing. 

But Harry was just pleased to see Louis wasn’t teasing or being funny. He was genuinely telling him it was okay if he didn’t share whatever it was he was skirting around. Not many people offered Harry that option, so it was understandable that it surprised him when someone did. Especially Louis.

Harry decided then that it was okay to trust Louis. 

“I’ll tell you,” Harry said with a nod and resumed walking, Louis walking right next to him. They reached the big entrance of the hotel, and they stepped out. 

The chilly Spanish wind bit their faces, which made Louis’s eyes water slightly, although he got used to the cold quickly. Harry’s hair was blowing with the occasional gust of wind that hit them from the front, but it wasn’t cold enough to be uncomfortable. It was fine to stand outside without getting sick after two minutes. 

“When I was 20, I was really deep into that clique of theirs,” Harry started. Their way to Harry’s car was still far ahead, so they had a nice walk along the parking lot till they got there. “I was very naive when I first met them. I’d only ever been in one relationship. I drank beer at parties only twice. I’d smoked maybe two cigarettes to look cool, and I’d only slept with my former girlfriend. I say this because there is a big contrast in the one year I was with them,” Harry mumbled wearily, avoiding Louis’s eyes. He looked ashamed.

“By the time I turned 21, I’d tried every drug to ever exist. I’d drank until I’d blackout, I’d slept with a bunch of people, and I did this for a year while I was introduced to the chairmen of every single renowned art gallery and museum around the world.”

Louis couldn’t help it when his stomach dropped, or the coiling anxiety that suddenly bloomed in his chest. Sweet, polite, and careful Harry in that sort of scene seemed so unlikely he could barely imagine it. He could picture a 21-year-old with scruffy hair, too skinny, paint under his nails, and a yearning to make something work for him. He could picture Harry mixed between all those bodies every night, fighting his own guilt, barely staying afloat while trying to get to the top. 

“I know what you’re thinking. It sounds nasty, and I now see how it can appall most people. I don’t think I’d ever return to that life, but I can’t deny the fact that I lived that life for a while. It gave me some of my best paintings too, my most famous sculptures, and drawings. I did the hard drugs. I drank my way into 22. I kept sculpting high off my face, painting while on acid, or blackout drunk barely able to stand as I drew a nude artist in the morning. I fucked around with too many people, and I did some heavy stuff at 23. Then, I had to stop at 24,” Harry trailed off.

Louis struggled to keep most of the oxygen in his body. There was something about the word ‘had’ instead of ‘wanted.’ Like he would’ve chosen to stay as he was, slowly disappearing from the world. There was so much wind, but he could only blink and see a pale-looking boy stuck in a hellish world, trying to get out desperately. Louis and Harry kept walking along the massive parking lot. 

In their moment of silence, Louis let Harry decide if he was going to keep going. He’d already insisted he didn’t need to know what Harry wasn’t willing to share. But after another minute, Harry continued:

“I developed a dependency on cocaine and alcohol by the time my mum and Gemma found me blacked out in a hotel room,” Harry confessed. 

Louis stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him. He didn’t want Harry to think he thought any less of him, or that it was something he had to be ashamed of— but it did shock Louis enough to make his heart drop to his stomach. He remembered the charity event, and it chilled him to the core. He’d hated that version of Harry so much. He’d been so disappointed, so annoyed— his first impression of this beautiful man was that he didn’t care enough about his sister to hold himself back for that one night. 

_Because he couldn’t, he’d been consumed by his own demons, by a disease._

“My mum and Gems never knew up until that point. They were so worried. It was so unlike anyone in our family to go down that path. My mum cried for months. Just when I thought she’d finally stop, she would start crying all over again,” Harry seemed to struggle, a few deep breaths before he moved on, “I felt like absolute garbage. No one likes to watch their mother cry, especially if you’re the one who’s caused all that pain. She blamed herself, every time I tried to console her, reassure her it was never because of her, she wouldn’t listen. She had so much guilt.”

Harry shook his head, hands in his pocket, “I can’t blame them for not noticing, I was very good at hiding it. Cocaine is a nasty drug. It’s the fastest-selling drug, it wears off quickly, and it’s easy to enough to hide when you’re on it at Christmas dinners. I hated myself by the time I was on my way to a rehab center in Malibu. Gemma was so scared,” Harry said with a thin voice, his eyes were downcast on the asphalt. He started walking again, so Louis followed suit.

The air was definitely thicker around Louis; the wind did not help; it was only making him dizzy. Harry was an addict. It all made sense. He only drank water. Gemma mentioned a year ago that she’d never seen Harry like that at a party. He was so different—everything fit. 

“How long have you been sober?” Louis asked carefully. He didn’t want to step out of line.

Harry scrunched his face to the sky, thinking, “I’d say around eight months almost. When you and I met, I was a month away from my trip to the rehabilitation center. Gemma and mum were still clueless by that time. They just saw this… _complete_ change in my behavior. My mum was so worried when she would see how dark the circles under my eyes were, how skinny I would get. She was desperate. She would call me every day, but I learned to put up an act. Those guys taught me everything,” Harry’s expression got darker and sadder as he thought about it. He was emotional, still stuck on his choices, and the people he picked to start his life as an artist. “I got high past airport security, important lunches, meetings, exhibitions, photoshoots, interviews, or just about anything. I did so many things I can’t tell you all the trips I experienced.”

Louis reminded himself to keep breathing; his eyes still stinging from the biting wind around them. He wasn’t uncomfortable, his hands warmly tucked in his coat as they kept walking. There were so many cars, and the parking lot was so wide and long, he imagined they could keep talking for hours without ever reaching the end. Louis sighed heavily.

“I know how much this is to process. If you need me to stop, I understand,” Harry said quietly to the night air. The only sound surrounding them was their shoes that sounded with every step. 

“I’m fine. I just don’t know what I can and can’t say, I would hate to hurt you,” Louis admitted.

Harry walked slower, turning to Louis, his eyes soft again, “Don’t worry about that. I don’t mind the questions, I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Louis said earnestly, smiling slightly before he dropped it, his face still numb from the cold and still processing the news. “Is it hard? Coming to parties?” 

Harry hummed, “It can be. I find, though, that it’s a good way to exercise control over myself. To test how far I’ve come since the beginning. It was a nightmare when I first got to the center. I had night terrors, severe anxiety, hallucinations, I would sweat through my clothes. I used to sleepwalk and wake up in a different room. I would sleep all day and get depressed over anything. My mum would try to visit every day, but it was still a process I had to go through by myself. Nobody could really get me to a good place unless I wanted to be okay again. The doctors explained I became dependent because there’s a chemical reaction when cocaine and alcohol get mixed in the body, which makes it easier to feel addicted.”

Louis nodded. 

He couldn’t believe the level of maturity Harry was actually displaying. He could explain everything with such grace like he’d studied and read all he could. He sounded smart and humble, which was hard for anyone. He knew that he’d never gotten to see Harry’s full self but him showing this side of himself, Louis felt like he was getting a glimpse into a whole new world. There was so much to uncover and find out. His flirting, his charming smile, and annoying jokes were already a big part of him. But, aside from the show, he could put on for others, behind the big curtain, there was just Harry. Intelligent, kind, compassionate, emotional Harry that maybe just a few people got to see. Louis was so grateful he got to be one of them.

“Thank you, Harry,” He said softly, stopping to look at him right in the eyes. Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he seemed incredibly touched just by those two words. “I know this must’ve been hard for you to share,” He whispered though he knew nobody could hear them. He just felt very protective; he couldn’t help the burning in his chest when Harry looked so vulnerable, standing in a parking lot with his wide, bright eyes. There was so much Louis could take, “You can trust me.”

There was a silence where Harry just seemed too shocked and in awe of words. Louis wasn’t sure if he’d said the right thing, but it had felt right in his heart, so he supposed it couldn’t have been too bad. 

Harry made some sort of sound with his mouth before he jumped straight to Louis, and hugged him so tightly Louis swore all the air left his lungs. There was something magical about having Harry hug you with so much care. “Thank you,” He mumbled into Louis’s coat, and if he sounded like he was crying, well, Louis hadn’t noticed.

“Nothing to thank me for. You’re doing great,” Louis replied, which only made Harry hug him tighter. 

+

Even though Louis’s room was further up than Harry’s, Harry insisted on riding with him to the 10th floor so he could see him to his door. On the car ride back to the hotel, Louis felt the drinks catching up to him. Harry claimed Louis seemed a little too tipsy to trust he would get to his room safely. Louis briefly apologized, but Harry insisted it didn’t bother him. 

“ _Nothing about you bothers me,”_ Louis thought he’d imagined Harry say. He was definitely drunk.

True to his words, Harry guided Louis straight to his door and then watched him slowly try to place his keycard in the slot of the lock. After a solid minute of trying Louis mumbled, he was seeing three of those deviled lines, and sheepishly admitted he needed help. 

Harry smugly swiped the card in and watched amused as Louis stepped sloppily into his room. 

  
“Thank you for a wonderful night curly. I’m glad we spent it together,” Louis slurred, trying to blink normally, but failing. There was something going on with his eyelids.

“The pleasure was mine. I hope we do this again sometime Lou,” Harry said, amused, and Louis smiled widely at him, his face leaning into the cold frame of his door. He exhaled in pleasure, the cool material felt like heaven to his warm skin. Also, Harry called him ‘Lou.’

“I love it when you call me that. C’ mere you annoying cute shit,” Louis said happily, extending his arms and winding them around a very smiling Harry who didn’t seem to mind his very drunk state. Louis snuggled his face into the crook of Harry’s shoulder and neck, smelling his deep cinnamon and vanilla cologne. He smelled exactly how he looked. Beautiful. 

“Beautiful,” Louis echoed, his eyelashes dragging softly against the skin of Harry’s neck, where his glittering suit wasn’t touching him. It was like a safe island away from the grand show everyone else was watching with rapt attention, a sneak peek backstage. Louis giggled.

“Okay 28, it’s time to sleep, there’s a very nice hangover waiting for you tomorrow,” Harry said very amusedly, gently prying Louis’s almost limp arms from his shoulders, and making Louis pull his head back from where he was resting it on his glittery shoulder.

“Ugh, don’t ruin my vibe Styles, I don’t want to think about that yet,” Louis mumbled petulantly as he stepped back from Harry’s body, looking up at him with pouting lips and sad sagging eyes.

“I’m sorry. Think about the amazing sleep you’ll have,” Harry said more cheerily, trying to mend his words. 

“Sure,” Louis shrugged appeased, then he looked at Harry again and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, giggling to himself when he saw Harry’s fiery blush coming up his neck. _Oh, how the tables have turned indeed._

“Goodnight, H,” Louis slurred happily, walking slowly backward to close his door.

“Bye, Lou,” Harry said with red cheeks still standing perfectly at the door. 

Louis almost melted into a puddle of elation and happy goo. “Bye,” Louis said one final time closing the door, then immediately turned around and rolled down to the floor. He wanted to do something cheesy like those girls in the movies, but really he just sat there for god knows how long thinking: I’m _falling for Harry Styles._


	7. VII

A month after Louis came to realize he liked Harry, he sunk so deep into his training, he was sure his feelings had gone away. (Not at all). He drove the simulator every day with Ben coaching him through the turns, they built three brand new strategies based around Gemma’s flawless talent, and they pre-planned the race a thousand times with the car and the tires.

Louis had prepared for this. He’d done everything imaginable to be absolutely ready to beat everyone and win bloody first place at the Australian Grand Prix. He’d also convinced himself that if he won the Australian GP, and Harry actually stopped talking to him, then his attraction would be cured. 

There was a sense of deep craving Louis couldn’t wait to satiate. He couldn’t wait to see Harry’s face as Louis drove the last lap into the finish line, his car leading all the others as he flew by so fast he was just a blur of red. He was going to win, and finally, bring Harry’s advances to an end. No more distractions, no more beautiful green eyes or plump pink lips, or curly hairs that fell perfectly over his forehead. No giant hands with painted nails, and soft fingers, rings everywhere. No more extravagant clothes that made you squint for a second to get used to it, or weird dialect that made you question where the fuck he was from.

No more, Harry. It was going to be _great._

“Ready, Tommo?” Niall asked in his ear, his car vibrating under him, his feet snug inside with one on the brake and the other on the gas pedal. His gloved hands held tight on to the steering wheel, his fingers resting on the gear paddles. His whole body thrummed with utter excitement. He was ready. 

“Let’s go,” Louis said briefly into the mic, letting his feet hover, he felt the power of the engine start revving. He'd led the way out of the pits since he’d won the Qualifying Race, which meant he had pole position. Gemma was a few feet to his right in second, and Liam right behind Louis in third. 

Harry had texted him a string of messages throughout the week of practice and qualifying. Most of them had been short enough. Not any less annoying.

_‘This doesn’t change anything 28, prepare your ego for second place,’_ Harry texted an hour after Louis finished in first place at Q3 on Friday, the Australian sun falling down the city, the sea a few miles back but still visible over buildings. 

‘ _Q2? More like QT ;) I just saw you on my TV doing an interview, I have to agree the stakes_ are _high this season,’_ Louis rolled his eyes immediately at the joke, even drew a confused face at his phone trying to understand what was wrong with Harry. Of course, he’d texted right as Louis crossed the finish line in first place, again.

_‘thank you for winking at the camera after saying that, but when you have your ass handed to you, don’t say I didn’t tell you so :( <3’ _Harry texted a third and final time after Louis made a very unsubtle comment about how _confident_ he was in the Australian GP, and how hard they’d worked for the past three months. Right after getting pole position for the first Grand Prix of the year, of course.

All in all, Louis hadn’t seen Harry in Australia, which left distractions to a minimum if he set his phone aside and on silent. It was like he didn’t even exist, not even when Gemma looked like a carbon copy of her younger brother.

Harry couldn’t make it before Sunday because he’d been invited to an exclusive grand opening of an exhibition at the Museo del Prado in Madrid.

Louis commented he sounded like a twat. 

Harry only laughed and promised he’d be front row on Sunday for the Grand Prix. Louis told him it was fine if he disappeared forever. Harry only giggled via voice notes, saying he made him blush. Louis couldn’t understand how he could be infuriating through messages too.

Louis closed his eyes and took three long deep breaths. His parked car was neatly positioned on the take-off area, the Australian Grand Prix finally starting in mere seconds. Gemma saluted. Louis smirked smugly and did the same. _Let the bloody games begin._

\+ 

Ten laps into the race, Louis was driving ahead in first place. The ground was trembling under his wheels. The Albert Park circuit had bumpy terrain, which made steering a piece of work. Louis loved weaving down this particular track— he even dared think it was one of his top ten.Ben was occasionally murmuring into his headpiece the position of the drivers in second and third place, Gemma and Liam hot on his heels. 

Gemma was quickly proving, just in this first race, how clever and attentive she was in her driving. She was fast and sneaky, she didn’t shy away from a good chance to overtake, and she tried to fit in every tight corner so she could take the lead. She was fast without getting ahead of herself and confident without forgetting her limits and knowing the rules. She knew she could play every trick in the book to win, but in the end, it always ended in a disqualification or a penalty. She was driving like she’d done Grands Prix all her life. Louis was proud to say he was impressed.

“Watch your left Louis,” Ben said in his serene ‘work voice.’ Louis and Liam teased him about it. Ben only talked like that when he was intensely focused on the race, making sure he was catching every last bit of information. Louis whipped his eyes fast to his left rearview mirror and clocked Gemma’s silver front much closer since he’d last seen it. He didn’t like to constantly check where all the other drivers were since it always made him lose focus, but he made a note to keep a closer eye on Gemma— at least for this particular race, so he could be sure he knew what he was up against. 

Louis squinted against the burning sun going down through the beach, Turn 1 was particularly blinding, but for the most part, the circuit kept the sun against their backs.In fourth gear, Louis passed quickly through two turns before he met Turn 3, a tight corner he managed to pull off with a smidge of confidence and years of practice— that’s where Gemma fell behind. She wasn’t as used to these tracks, so she’d obviously have a hard time getting used to all the different circuits. Louis drove them with muscle memory, a faint image of the turns in his mind, made his hands move, and react before his eyes were there. 

Turn 5 was a pain for rookies, but Gemma was graceful enough to pass her maneuver as an intentional technique, Louis smirked amused. He was reminded of himself when he first started at the Grands Prix, fresh-faced, and a 16-year-old boy with too much eagerness and a hunger to prove everyone he could be as great as all the other legends. Time taught him that patience was a driver’s best ally. 

Not that he’d had any for his first two or three years. He was always yelling at himself, everyone trying to reassure him it was just the beginning. Louis never liked the consolation. He was used to being hard on himself, especially at his job. It’s one of the reasons he’d gotten so far in his career. He was always pointing out his own flaws, and he was never too proud to let Ben or Niall talk his ear off about mistakes. Not many drivers were like that. Most just scoffed and defended their honor. Of course, those were the ones at the back of the track in that precise moment. 

+

Forty more laps had them all tighter and closer to the finish line. Albert Park had fifty-eight laps in total, so that meant that they were less than ten laps away from finishing the race. Louis's pulse spiked at the thought. This wasn’t the first year he’d finish first at the first race of the season, but it would definitely be a more memorable one than the rest. He was going to win this bet against Harry, and then he’d bask in the glory of rubbing it in Styles’ face every time he could manage. Oh, the euphoria. 

Of course, in the middle of Louis's reverie, Gemma took the bull by the horns and sped so fast past him in Turn 8, it was almost superhuman. Louis actually gasped. 

“Louis sudden overtake for number 9, look for a clean apex point in Turn 10 as soon as possible,” Ben chimed in over the intercom, his voice still mellow and calm, like they weren’t suddenly behind. 

_That_ was probably a Mercedes strategy. It wouldn’t be the first time either. Lacasa had been part of a stunt like that two years back when Louis had underestimated their new driver’s talent. A rookie mistake, just like this one. He’d trusted that Gemma would just eternally stick to the back of his car and never be able to take his spot. He got too cocky. Louis blamed it all on Harry Styles. He’d gotten into his head. Dumb, handsome, good at everything twat. Louis would strangle him later.

“Turn 10 Tommo, find the window,” Ben broke in his loathe-fueled rant. He agreed and then sent everything to hell, shifting the gears until he was going into seventh. The car was humming comfortably with the inhumane speed because Ferrari had good cars, _great_ cars that were made for this sort of situation. He knew the cameras could see he was suddenly flying down Turn 9, that he was doing everything in his power to reach number 9 and overtake her for good. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight ever again. Lesson learned.

_“_ Feather on that break, the apex is clear, Louis,” Ben murmured calmly. Fuck calm. Louis ordered them silent, fixing his complete attention on the back of the Mercedes car. Fuck Mercedes-Benz. 

He felt his foot automatically work with his shifting hand, revving the car to its limit, eight gear flashing on the screen. It only flashed because it was the last gear, which meant the car was going the fastest it could go. To the human eye sitting in the stands, that was too fast to process, Louis knew because he grew up watching races on the telly. His sisters always whined about watching Barbie movies instead. Bless them.

The speed still thrummed like it was alive around him, and Louis could feel the tips of his toes and hands tingle with the adrenaline of the wind pressing down on his neck.

“Give me DRS,” Louis said with a trembling tone. His car was shaking and grumbling under the uneven track. He could see Gemma so close before him they were almost touching nose with the rear. He knew Ben would’ve argued that speed does not, a good racer make. Nevertheless, a millisecond later, his wheel’s screen blinked white, and Louis activated his DRS without a second to doubt. The back of his car immediately opened a flap at the top, which let him gather the most speed possible. He felt the car move even closer to Gemma’s own. He just needed one more turn, and then he would overtake her and cross the finish line in first place. 

People were probably screaming and cheering in the stands. He knew this was a key moment to come up with any sort of strategy before Gemma crossed the final lap ahead of him. They were down to one more lap before the checkered flag came out. 

“Tommo, watch your fuel mate,” Ben said, and he sounded pained. He sounded like that one time in China where Louis almost had it, he was so close he could taste the win, and then his tank was almost empty, and he had to slow down. He ended in fourth place. 

“Fucking hell,” Louis cursed in between his teeth. Of course, he was going to lose to new talent. He was once that same racer against Petrovich. Avilov had been the famous hotshot legend in Formula 1, best racer, good track, and already, a few hard-earned records. Then, all it took to dethrone him was a younger, faster, and speed-hungry weakling who wanted to feel the adrenaline of racing every weekend for as long as he was allowed.

“She’s going to win Tommo, just try to keep the fuel for second place,” Ben said in his ear like they’d just been having a conversation. Louis shook his head and focused on the track ahead, trying to tune out the shining silver car just close enough to make it a terrible temptation. Louis felt his chest flutter with a gale of disappointment. He reasoned with himself that it was only the first race, there’d be plenty more to win. He’d just have to study Gemma’s driving pattern for a bit and then work his ass off with an even better strategy. He’d blow the hats off every bloody critic that sneered at him. 

+

_“_ Look straight ahead at the camera, everyone, this way please.”

Louis stood in the podium. His racing boots scratched because he hadn’t changed them since last season. Ben was giving him new ones for the next race. Like always.

“Racers, look this way now.”

All the photographers were eagerly giving them directions. Liam was standing at the other side of the podium, a clear number 3 under his feet. Louis was standing over the number 2. He sighed and stared at another lens, a younger photographer who seemed excited to be there. Gemma was grinning from ear to ear, and Louis couldn’t say he wasn’t happy for her. He was. She was giddy with her racing suit splattered all over with champagne, a long-lived tradition for first place winners.

“Okay, Gemma, just one of you, big smile.”

Louis blinked the flash out of his vision. Most of the technicians were chatting around the photographers, chatting, and sipping on wine and champagne flutes. Some of them were laughing, others (the sponsors) were shaking their heads and whispering amongst themselves. Louis wanted to scoff. He hated these type of events sometimes because of all the old people. The ones with the curled lip and the white hair. They never laughed or smiled. They were everywhere today. They were constantly near Louis, too, ready for a passive-aggressive chat. They hated Louis, especially when he put on exaggerated flamboyancy for the cameras. It was the best way to annoy the fuck out of them.

“Ok, thank you, racers.”

Louis stepped off and looked around the room, trying to find Liam. He spotted him already sneaking away with Zayn at his side, both of them giggling like little kids. Louis felt warmness bloom in his chest. He wasn’t about love at the moment, but he could never help himself when it came to those two. He was weak for them, and only them. He also couldn’t help the slight burn deep in his gut, because that used to be him and Leo a few years ago. They were happy a few years ago.

“Tomlinson, can I have a word?”

That chilled the burning right out. Samuel Stello, CEO of Scuderia Ferrari. Louis thought it was comical how much Samuel _hated_ Louis. He was the eldest member in the FCA, the owners of Ferrari, and a shit ton of other car brands. He was a billionaire with medieval beliefs. He once said queerness was a disease to the world, and that partners of the same sex should never bother society with their existence. Liam hid his ‘gayness’ from Samuel well; he really tried to be as good as he could— Zayn hated that. Louis gave two flipping shits about what Samuel Stello thought of him. 

Leo admonished Louis's behavior once when he tried to kiss him at a formal dinner. Samuel had been watching them like a hawk. As if they were suddenly going to start having sex in front of everyone at the table. Louis had felt tempted to actually do it. 

“Yes, sir,” Louis replied tightly, turning to Samuel then. He smelled like a rich bastard, and he was wearing an Armani suit. He had an ugly addiction to Armani. 

Samuel was of normal build, very white, very Italian-English, and he looked like Kurt Russell if Kurt Russell had aged terribly. “The race was good today,” He said with an expression that screamed how displeased he was with the race.

“It could’ve been better. Styles is good; she’ll be a real challenge,” Louis replied, he was trying mightily not to grit his teeth while speaking. 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t think so. That bird’s time of the month will sync with a race soon, and she’ll be done for,” Samuel chuckled like he’d said something amusing.

Louis just stared at the back of the room, raging fury in his gut. “You just need to seduce her, break her heart and we’re back in business,” He laughed louder, like Gemma being in Formula 1 was hilarious. 

“Her talent will blindside you, sir, I’ve been with her on the track, and she’s extraordinary,” Louis said over Samuel’s laugh. His hands were writhing behind him, his racing suit feeling tighter and hotter. 

“Sure, Tomlinson, sure,” Samuel said, wiping a non-existent tear from his wrinkled cheek. He sobered and looked at Louis with that pinch of spite ever-present in his eyes. “Win Bahrain Tomlinson, that’s an order.”

Louis willed his face to remain straight and collected. So many times, he’d just wanted to beat the living shit out of this man. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Samuel said and nodded, his face now annoyed. Louis had no bloody clue what could’ve made him annoyed, though he imagined it was his existence. 

Samuel then left immediately, pulled into a conversation with other white-headed men. Louis closed his eyes and breathed deeply for ten seconds. His therapist said it was great for panic attacks or when he felt like killing his boss.

“Having fun, 28?”

Louis turned, he felt calmer already. 

There he stood— of course, he did. He loved dramatic entrances, and appearing, and disappearing like a stealthy vampire. He even looked like one. He had a black, see-through blouse that seemed to be custom made for his toned, terrible-looking torso. His tattoos were in full display, like a painting in the Louvre. His nails were a deep black, and his lips were shinier and pinker than usual, which probably meant he had gloss on. Louis's stomach did not swoop in absolute ecstasy; that’s how he always reacted to pretty boys with makeup. 

“Not as much as you’re probably having,” Louis replied.

“I am,” Harry said with a smirk. Louis resisted rolling his eyes. Harry’s face softened then, “All joking aside, though, you were incredible out there.”

Louis gulped. Ok, so they weren’t going to just banter. Harry was genuine and kind. “Thank you. I’m still going to beat myself up for a while, though. Always do.”

Harry nodded, but he was frowning, “I’ve noticed you do that.”

Louis pursed his lips and shrugged, looking at the party behind Harry.

“You shouldn’t,” Harry continued.

Louis's eyebrows involuntarily raised. He paused and willed his face to untwist as soon as he did. “What do you mean?”

“I just think you’re a great racer. You shouldn’t overthink yourself when you don’t finish in first place. You did everything right. You were trying too hard, and your tank didn’t hold up because of that. It was a rookie mistake, that happens to everyone. Gemma was so focused on winning at one point she actually went back two places. I’ve noticed the lot of you do that. You’re too tense and stressed to think clearly,” Harry said with a shrug of his own. 

Louis squinted at Harry’s face. He could be right, but Louis would be caught dead admitting it. So he just hummed and looked at the party. “Have you ever driven one of the cars before?” Louis asked, but he didn’t say it accusingly, he was actually asking. 

Harry nodded with a small smile like he found it funny to remember when he drove it, “I have.”  


Louis made a gesture with his face. A ‘go on, I’m listening.’

“It wasn’t very glamorous. A few months ago, when the team first approached Gemma, she managed to get me in one. She’d bugged me for years to get in a car. After about six months of constant begging, I went to the course, I passed, and got placed into an older Mercedes artist. She was there for the whole thing. She guided me from the pit box. By the end, she was pissing herself. I did everything I shouldn’t have done. I just remember feeling like I was on a G-force rollercoaster,” Harry laughed with his wide, perfect teeth. Louis tried not to swoon. Harry’s whole face glowed when he laughed.

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Louis said, and if a pinch of fondness escaped him, Harry made no move to acknowledge it.

Just then, Ben quickly walked up to Louis's side and urgently whispered, “Two FIA members already asked three times for you; they’re by the pit box.”

“Fine, I’m going,” Louis nodded and looked apologetically at Harry’s perfectly symmetrical face. “Duty calls,” He said and pointed vaguely behind him. Harry smiled closed-lip and nodded in understanding.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry replied and winked at Louis. His stomach somersaulted. He played it cool, of course.

“Maybe,” Louis smirked and walked backward with Ben pulling his shoulder through the crowd. Cool exits: Louis one, Styles a thousand.

+

“Let me take you on a date.”

Louis immediately let his orange juice free in a violent spit, his eyes wide and watering fast. Orange juice burned his sinuses and his entire face, he felt like he was suddenly on fire. _What in the ten actual fucks?_

_“What_?!”

Harry and Louis had been pleasantly basking in the Australian sun in fancy lounge chairs. The pool seemed inviting. The day wasn’t at all cold, and it seemed perfect to swim and detox from the stressful weekend. Louis had been having a blast. Harry _had_ crashed his poolside zen, but he’d quickly returned to a peaceful state of bliss. Until now. 

“ _Say_ that again,” Louis said, bordering on manic. Harry was going insane. The heat had gotten to him. “I think I misheard you.”

“Let. Me. Take. You. On. A. Date,” Harry repeated slower and loud like Louis was slow. Louis looked around the pool for anyone who could’ve heard him, but they were literally the only ones there. The hotel was dizzyingly expensive, and it was a Monday morning. What was it with the two of them and pools?

“I _heard_ you correctly then. I think you’re losing your mind,” Louis retorted weakly, his red swimming trunks feeling like too little clothing all of a sudden. Also, they definitely matched the blush on his neck.

Harry’s own body was in full display. Tiny yellow swimming trunks were the only thing keeping his body decent, and he had giant Gucci sunglasses that suited him too well. They seemed like something Elton John would wear to do the laundry at home. His abs were astonishingly marked, and his tattoos were a delicious contrast with his milky-white skin that was slowly tanning into a rich-golden. Louis was ready to leave earth. Between Harry’s broad shoulders and muscled _everything_ , Louis really stood no chance.

“What are you on about? I’m not losing my mind, you dolt. Louis, I like you. We banter because we like being idiots, but I’m not dumb. I can tell you like me too. Am I wrong?” Harry asked with a raised, perfectly trimmed eyebrow. Harry’s eyebrow shape made Louis self-conscious about his. Harry placed his sunglasses on top of his head, and his very green, very vibrant, _shining_ eyes stared deeply into Louis's soul. Louis gulped. 

_What the fuck was he supposed to_ say _? ‘Sure, I think you’re gorgeous. Let’s go out on a date and throw all caution to the wind. Who cares!?’_

“I—” Louis said instead because he really was aghast. He’d never dealt with such forwardness. Most of the guys who’d tried making passes at him were drunk or overly confident. “I— I just…”

“Perfect, I’ll wait for you in the lobby at eight P.M. if you decide to come. I’ll be there for thirty minutes just in case you get cold feet and then regret having cold feet and come down.”

And that was that for Harry, it seemed. He just turned back into his lounge chair and let the burning sun seep into his skin. He looked wonderfully golden like that. Louis still had his mouth hanging wide open. He was still trying to process the fact that Harry really took the leap of faith and threw caution to the wind. Huh.

It couldn’t be that simple. It just couldn’t. There had to be nail-biting drama, a slow-burning build-up, and a montage of moments where Louis and Harry were having a good time over happy music. 

It couldn’t be that easy. 

In a way, though, they did sort of have moments like that. They hooked up on that bathroom, they didn’t see each other for a year, Harry confessed his past addiction, —which he is still battling— he made very clear advances toward Louis, and they had fun at the fair, in their lunch breaks, and in their stupid, childish month-long banter. _Huh._

_What do you know._

“Are you done overthinking your life choices? You’re ruining my zen,” Harry murmured, where he was calmly frowning at the sun shining directly in his face. He looked happy.

Louis snorted loudly and shook his head. This man was truly unbelievable. He’d just asked him out and then proceeded to act like he hadn’t spun Louis's world completely upside down. Although, according to his recent epiphany, it hadn’t been turned suddenly, but rather through the span of more than a year. 

Louis felt like his brain had been on in an evil plot against himself, not telling him these things.

+

“I can’t do it,” Louis repeated, panicking. He was pacing the entire floor of his suite. Zayn and Liam were pitifully watching him from the ten sofas in his _living room._ He’d wondered why his hotel room was so bloody big, but he didn’t have time to wonder anymore. 

“Why not?” Liam asked for the tenth time since they’d sat down per Louis's request. He’d texted them earlier, saying he was having a crisis and an emergency. Of course, they ran down to his room and found him in a fetal position humming to himself. 

“Because,” Louis answered like a three-year-old, and Zayn sighed in defeat.

“Lou, think deeper. What is stopping you?” Zayn asked with a small frown. He was holding Liam’s head in his lap and watching Louis's pace. 

Louis stopped pacing and held his face in his hands. He looked at the ceiling and felt like screaming. He didn’t because they would probably send security. “Leonard, I think.”

“What do you mean?” Liam asked immediately. He _despised_ Leonard more than anyone else.

“I mean that I am not ready for— whatever this is! I can’t do romance. I need more time.”

Liam and Zayn were silent. They always were in this situation. Leonard came like a slap to the face for his three friends. They didn’t know what to do or how to react, but they always made sure to be right by Louis's side. They slept over the first two months. They took turns watching him. He fell into depression, he wouldn’t eat for a while, but they made sure he did. They helped him survive. He just wasn’t ready for dating yet. 

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Zayn broke through the long silence. 

“What?” Louis asked.

“It doesn't have to be a date. Tell him you’re going but that it doesn’t mean anything other than friends. For now, at least.”

Louis stopped thinking and considered Zayn’s idea. He could go downstairs and make it clear they weren’t getting romantically involved at all. They were simply having dinner. It could work. 

“That’s a good plan,” Liam added. 

Louis nodded, “It is.”

So, they proceeded to force Louis into a navy blue Prada shirt with a fancy pair of black jeans. Lottie obviously packed for him. She was probably a witch. She always guessed his size in any store. She knew exactly what shirts to pack and what jeans would fit him best. Also, how many. Witchy.

Zayn did his hair faster than ever before, and by 8:15 P.M, Louis was ready and on the elevator down to the lobby. 

Why was he doing it? After everything, he never thought he’d be capable of doing this again. The dating, the leaping, the first date, the first kiss, the first time. For a while, he’d thought that was going to be his ex. Then it wasn’t, and Louis was left in some sort of limbo. A place in existence where he didn’t know how to move forward or forgive everything that happened. Perhaps this was the first step, even if it wasn’t a date.

+

His shoes clicked on the shiny marble floor, and he cursed the soles for being wood and not rubber. He _liked_ his cheap Amazon bought shoes, thank you very much, but Zayn had insisted on lending him a pair of Italian shoes he couldn’t name for the life of him. They felt weird and stiff, but he couldn’t complain. They did look nice.

With his clicking feet, he reached a giant water fountain in the reception and looked around for Harry. He knew he spotted him when he saw a group of four girls huddled up around a familiar mop of brown curls. His stomach swirled and jumped in nervousness as he was quickly reminded of how _big_ and _worshipped_ he was— Harry Styles, the artist, sculptor, and part-time actor.

The girls were talking loudly. They all had their phones out, probably for a picture. Louis breathed deeply, calming his nerves and thanking his lucky stars for the distraction. Harry was making the girls laugh, and they were smiling wide. Louis's chest felt warm, his heart beating fast. 

When he got closer, he could hear their conversation.

“…and we can’t wait for your exhibition, my sister’s so excited to fly over to see it,” A blonde girl said. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Louis could see she was visibly nervous.

Her hands were trembling, and the light caught on to the magazine she was holding for him to sign. It was the Another Man issue. More specifically, the one where Harry came out as bisexual. 

They were a set of disarmingly gorgeous pictures— three different covers that shook the world a year ago when they were released. Each more beautiful than the last. (Louis knew because he stared at the covers in awe when he first saw them a few weeks ago).

One cover showed Harry in a giant Giambattista Valli yellow dress that extended over the whole floor. He was laying around it with blue nails and hair styled back. He looked like the vision of beauty. For another cover, he wore a baby-blue translucent Ludovic de Saint Sernin shirt and wet hair with light makeup. A third, (Louis's favorite), was him underwater completely nude, resembling a baroque painting. Louis knew this was a nod to Harry’s favorite style of artistic expression, the one he used the most in his paintings. 

They were breathtaking images. 

“Thank you, what’s your sister’s name?”

“Ellie.”

“Tell them thank you for me, please,” Harry said softly, his eyes frowning as he concentrated fully on writing the name down on the cover. It was the second cover, the translucent shirt, the hair, and the glossy eyeshadow. Louis couldn’t believe that man on the cover was eager to take him on a date. He couldn’t.

After three more pictures and autographs, Harry stepped away from the circle and vowed gratefully at all of them, “Thank you so much, guys. I have to go, have a nice evening…” He paused and looked up toward Louis, who was quietly squirming and trying not to be noticed by the girls “…I know I will.” 

The four of them said goodbye before Harry squeezed through them and walked toward Louis. He had a giant grin and a set of deeply carved dimples. Louis's cheeks got redder at the piercing attention; Harry’s staring with intrigue at his outfit. Louis stared back in massive awe. He was _pink._ His blouse was a beautiful semi-translucent pastel pink that had loose sleeves and a frilly neck. He was wearing a matching pink vest over it to cover his chest, and his bottoms were high-waisted wide Gucci jeans, his shoes were white loafers. It worked somehow. His hair was tousled back in a way that seemed like an effortless natural hairstyle but probably took more than ten minutes to perfect.

“Hi,” Harry said quietly as he reached Louis, “Sorry about that.”

Louis's burning face didn’t settle as he smiled timidly, “Hi. Don’t worry.”

“You look wonderful,” Harry complimented. His palms rubbed once against his jeans. Louis wanted to scream into a pillow like a love-sick teenager. He looked absolutely stunning. Even his bloody nails matched. 

“Thank you, so do you,” Louis complimented breathlessly, his stomach twisting when he realized he probably sounded and looked insane, just staring at Harry like another one of the squealing girls behind them.

“Shall we?”

“After you.”

+

“I’m glad you came down.”

“I’m not bloody, Rapunzel, shut up.”

Harry snorted and nudged his side with his elbow, “I’m still glad you’re here.”

‘Here' was a beautiful Italian restaurant not too far from the Melbourne pier. 

They stood side by side as the valet driver rolled up in front of them. _Why were they acting like two teenagers going on their first date?_

“I’m glad you decided to come,” Harry said, turning to him.

“I wanted to come, of course. But, I have to let you know right now that—’’

“Shit, don’t say it 28.”

“—This can’t be a date.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, turning to look at Harry too. He let one hand go over his face; he was proper stressed again. “I’d hate to lead you on. I’m not ready for anything that you want. I’d rather you know now.”

Harry was looking at the floor, so Louis resorted to looking up at the clear night sky, a few stars shining bright.

“I get it, it’s fine,” Harry answered after a moment. He sounded disappointed, sad. Louis's chest felt heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said again for good measure because he really was sorry. He knew how fucked up Leonard left him, he was not about to dump all that over Harry’s shoulders. He couldn’t do that to him. 

“Could you tell me what’s stopping you?”

Louis considered it, weighing the options. He could be honest about everything, tell him about what happened a year ago. He could say he was broken, sad, and slowly on the mend. But that wouldn’t do anything. Louis was okay with Harry being clueless to everything about his past because he didn’t need the sorry looks, or the pity, or the anger when he told the story for the third time. Niall, Zayn, and Liam sat down the first time to listen to Louis confess everything to them one afternoon before he filed the official police report. His mum heard it the next night in their living room, a box of tissues and everyone asleep upstairs. It almost broke him for good, but he got out alive. 

“I’m not ready,” Louis admitted tightly, and it weighed on him. He hated how much of a tight grip the past still had on him. How much it hurt him to bring it back. Baby steps, every single day.

“I understand,” Harry nodded, looking at Louis serenely, always looking. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here all year long.”

“Hmm,” Louis bit his lip to keep from smiling. He wasn’t happy about it. (Of course, he was). He wouldn’t let Harry know that ever. Then Harry extended his elbow for Louis to take. Louis reluctantly placed his hand in the crook of Harry’s arm, and he immediately bent it to hold his hand there.

“Let’s get dinner, pal,” Harry said, then _patted his hand._

Louis groaned lowly and rolled his eyes, his lip almost perforating his mouth, where he bit down even harder. “You’re such an _insufferable_ little shit.”

“Ya can’t resist me ay,” Harry said with an overtly English accent, chasing Louis's eyes with a giant toothy grin. It was disarming. 

“Sure,” Louis replied. He meant it. 

Then a Rolls Royce rolled up in front of them, and he almost cackled. What a move that would’ve been.

“Holy shit, Styles, you’re a massive dork,” Louis laughed, looking at the giant silver beast parked in front of them. The cherry on top of the cake: a driver dressed like a proper chauffeur climbed out and saluted them with his _driver’s hat_. This was the best night of his life. Louis almost doubled over. “This blew up in your face, lad.”

“Don’t ‘lad’ me, 28. You could’ve _romantically_ enjoyed a ride in this car. Now it has to be platonic and serious, and we have to listen to serious music while we seriously chat about serious things. Now come on.” 

Louis really wanted to roll his eyes again, but instead, he let Harry place a hand on the small of his back. Louis tried very hard not to be affected by Harry’s touch, but it did something intensely electrifying to his delicate senses. Why couldn’t life be simpler? He would’ve said yes to Harry in a heartbeat. In another world, another life.

Harry led him toward the backseat, and the chauffeur immediately got the door open for the two of them, “Good evening Mr. Styles,” He greeted politely, “Mr. Tomlinson,” He added with a smile.

“Hi, Will, everything good?” Harry replied as he plopped down on the _white_ leather chair.

“Marvelous sir,” He responded and then nodded again, shutting the car door swiftly behind them. 

“This thing’s beautiful on the inside,” Louis noted as he looked at the front and the driving panel. Sleek polished wooden finish, detailed bordering on the upholstery, a silent thrum of the engine, and an elegant wheel with a gorgeous set of pedals. “Contrary to popular belief, I’ve rarely climbed on to many fancy cars.”

Harry actually looked surprised, staring at the starry ceiling, the iconic symbol of the Rolls Royce line. “I actually believed you had. I wasn’t sure what would impress you.”

“This is fine,” Louis said with a shrug like it was just okay. Inside he was seconds from cooing at the level of detail in every corner of the Phantom.  


“Good, I rented it for tonight only so enjoy it while you still can Cinderella, at twelve it’ll disappear,” Harry tapped his loafer against Louis's shin with a smile, expecting Louis to crack up at his joke. 

“Harry, you’re the funniest man I’ve ever met,” Louis threw back, going through the iPad-looking screen in front of his seat. 

“I’ll literally jump out the car window if you don’t stop ogling the car like that,” Harry said, looking intensely at Louis's profile. 

_This man was not getting jealous of a car. He could not be._

“I’m begging you to tell me,” Louis took a dramatic pause to look directly at Harry’s eyes, so perfectly beautiful, “that you’re not jealous of the attention I’m giving this car.”

Harry scoffed petulantly and turned to look out the window, not that there was much to look at since they hadn’t taken off yet. Will was sorting something out at the entrance of the hotel. 

Louis sighed with a bubble of infinite delight growing in his gut. He missed being adored like that. Being liked, missed, taken care of. He almost wished he hadn’t asked Harry for anything other than for him to hold his hand by the end of the night. They couldn’t do that as friends. Friends didn’t submerge in the deep waters of breathless pining. 

He couldn’t take it back. Louis had to be strong because he couldn’t be selfish. He had to remind himself why he was stuck just staring at the back of Harry’s wispy curls in the nape of his neck, and the outline of his toned arms in a see-through pink blouse without being able to do anything about it. 

Harry was out of reach because he had to be. Louis had a long way to go before he could open himself up to anyone. He needed to be okay with himself first. It hurt to think about it. 

“If only there was a racer out there willing to let me take them on a date,” Harry broke the silence of the car, still just looking out the window.

Louis burst out laughing, loud, and unsympathetic.

+

“How do you do it?”

Harry’s eyes widened. He set down his water, brows scrunched in confusion. It wasn’t fair. He looked adorable doing that.

“Sorry?”

“How do you do it, the art, the sculpting, I dunno. What you do,” Louis gestured in the air like he was going to make Harry understand that way.

“Oh. Well,” He looked down in concentration at his empty plate. They were waiting for their pasta to be ready. Traditional Italian music was coming from the overhead speakers. “I don’t know if you will like to hear it,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck self-depreciatingly. 

Louis rolled his eyes, nudged Harry’s shin with his foot, “I don’t care about it being pretty. Just tell me, I’m curious.”

Harry sighed quick and looked at Louis. He had wonderful broad shoulders littered in tattoos. Louis couldn’t stop staring at them now that they were alone in a private section of the restaurant. He was almost entranced. 

“I began my first professional art piece when I was twenty,” Harry started, “It was the ‘Two Ghosts,’ Baroque painting. Do you know which one?” 

Louis knew. It was actually the second thing that came up when he googled Harry, right after a picture of him posing on a red carpet. Two Ghosts was perhaps, the most famous painting in his collection. 

It depicted two shirtless, beautiful men, portrayed very realistically; they almost seemed like a picture. The men were facing each other, their chests had a single thin cut down the middle, right down to the mouth of their abdomens. They each were reaching across to touch the other’s wound, and in the background, almost twenty pairs of hands reached out for them in every direction. It took his breath away.

“Well, I painted that, uh— I think the second time I tried MDMA. I had a really bad trip. I felt like I was sinking into the floor. Lacey, one of Lance’s friends, helped me. I was shaking, trying to get someone to make me move. Lacey reached across to me— she was high too— and just placed her palm on my chest. She kept repeating that I was safe, that I just had a bad trip, that I could come out of it. In my mind, I imagined Lacey as a man. I felt okay when I pictured a man taking care of me. I felt okay with Lacey too, but it was different. It was the first time I realized I was bisexual. It was powerful. I just remember grabbing a pencil and sketching a rough draft on a piece of paper. I wrote down what I was picturing in my mind, and later, after I came back down, I painted it. Simple, really,” Harry finished with a low chuckle. 

Louis looked at Harry with a warm gaze. Harry’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly when he caught the curve in Louis’ lip. He looked down. 

“What a story,” Louis said after a minute, with a raised eyebrow. He nudged Harry’s shin again. He was avoiding Louis’ stare. Instead, he seemed very interested in the floor.

“Do I not sound like a lunatic?” Harry asked, confused. He was now looking at Port Philip Bay outside of the window.

“I don’t understand,” Louis replied, confused himself. Harry had written two art books, and in one of them, he explained— in extensive detail— how he’d done one of his most acclaimed charcoal portraits while being sucked off. He didn’t know how Harry could feel embarrassed then. “I think you should start the third book from that story alone.”

“Really?” Harry looked back at him, surprised.

“Of course,” Louis said. He would’ve said it a thousand times to see Harry happy. To see him sure of himself. His face relaxed, “Can I ask you something else?” 

Harry shrugged, “As I said, I trust you.”

Louis’ chest fluttered. He cleared his throat, “Did uh— don’t answer if you don’t want to, but, would you say you’re better than a year ago?”

Harry hesitated again. He scrunched his eyes consulting himself. Louis’ stomach flipped. Harry did something to him, he couldn’t explain it, but it scared him. 

Because he hadn’t felt it since Leo, he hadn’t felt anything until four years ago. When he first saw him and thought, ‘Finally, I’ve found what I’ve been looking for.’ Now he was sat there, with Harry looking perfect in the low lights, his face defined only by a burning candle in the middle of the table, and Louis knew that maybe Leo wasn’t the end of the story. That he could keep going forward.

Sooner or later, he’d realize how fast and easy Harry could pull him in, wrap him around his finger. It was only a matter of time. It always was.

“My sponsor helped me sort of label them. Good days are green, yellow can be a minor craving— a passing thought that keeps coming back once in a while. Then red is… it’s when I can’t get out of bed without thinking about it. I feel it almost like it’s a physical urge to alleviate everything. It’s those days when I’m close to relapsing,” Harry shivered, his eyes closed, and he rolled his neck. It truly affected him, almost a year later. 

"And what would you say today feels like?" Louis asked softly.

"Green," Harry replied immediately with a small nod. His eyes were clear, honest.

Louis leaned into the table. Elbows splayed out. He looked carefully at the artist before him. Harry’s attention immediately fell on him when he saw he’d leaned in closer. The candle waved around Louis’s eyes. 

“I think you’re doing a marvelous job, Harry,” Louis said softly, looking at him with intent. He needed Harry to know he meant it. “You’re so strong.”

“I- thank you,” Harry said meekly, cheeks tinged a light pink. Louis almost sighed dreamily.

“Has your art changed much since you went sober?”

Harry looked at the candle, forest green reflected in the fire, like a painting himself. “I haven’t painted or sculpted anything since I sobered up,” He confessed, so quiet. His admittance fell heavy like a sudden light going out. Louis blinked.

“What?”

“I’m- uh, scared. That I won’t be as good. Most of my collection was influenced heavily by drugs or alcohol. If I don’t have that, then I have nothing. I’ve only ever known how to use my hands for sketching, carving stone, for painting. I can’t do anything else. Sometimes I sit with my notebook and pencil— the safest and easiest way to start all over. But I can’t. I can’t bear the thought of trying to draw something and failing. That nothing will come, no matter how long I wait,” Harry did not look up. He seemed lost in his mind, in his thoughts. 

Louis was frowning, shaking his head, “No, no,” He said, leaning even further on the table, “No, I don’t think so. Harry, you’ re—’’ Louis had so much to say. How could he say it all without ever stopping? “You’re such a creative force. You don’t just paint or draw, you _inspire_ people. You move them. Nobody goes to your shows just to stare at your collection. They go for you for your words. Artists use you as an example. They don’t look for your source of creativity. They look for what you hide in the things you create. Two Ghosts wasn’t MDMA. It was you and a realization. No matter how it happened, that was all still you. Now, it’ll just be you with a clearer head,” Louis couldn’t keep the fondness from his voice, the small smile. Harry did things to him that no one else ever had.

Harry was silent. His eyes had traveled from the wick of the candle to Louis’ general self. He was looking at him with meaning, with something else Louis couldn’t name. He was just staring. Louis then realized with the soft flicker of the fire, that Harry’s eyes were slightly misty. Just enough to seem like a trick of the light, but Louis noticed the second Harry folded his lips in, the rapid blinking and the heavier exhales he was taking. 

Harry was trying not to cry. Holy shit. Louis’ stomach dropped instantly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I was out of line, wasn’t I? Don’t cry, I—’’

“No,” Harry cut in, shaking his head too, he looked at Louis, eyes unreadable and still misty, so vulnerable, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me — that I’m more than this _disease,_ more than an addiction,” Harry interrupted, quickly flicking his hand across both eyes, clearing any tears. “I’ve heard and been in a lot of support groups, AA meetings, counseling sessions, private therapy, and long chats with my sponsor, but… nothing like that. You caught me by surprise, I didn’t expect what you were saying to affect me like that, s’all,” Harry mumbled the last part, rubbing a ringed hand through his face, his nose slightly pink and his eyes barely glazed over, but still different than a few minutes before.

Louis exhaled, “Was I, out of line?” He asked unsurely, he didn't know _how_ he’d affected Harry.

Harry smiled and shook his head, “Not at all. Thank you, Lou,” His smile grew little by little until he chuckled and said, “Thank god, this isn’t a date, I would be mortified.”

Louis threw his head back and let out a loud laugh, eyes crinkling. He covered his mouth to keep his laugh from calling the attention of other patrons. “You would’ve never heard the end of it.”

Harry hummed softly, and just then, as if it had been planned, their waiter came back to the little private room and brought their food. Louis and Harry sat in comfortable silence. 

_It isn’t a date. Right._


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hii, as always, let me know what you think so far.

After they finished dinner, Harry stopped Louis before he reached the car door.  “I uh- I was actually wondering if you wanted to come take a walk with me,” Harry said, holding on to Louis’ upper arm. He was blushing furiously.

Louis’ own cheeks felt hot, his eyes going immediately to Harry’s large hand on his bicep, fingers ever so gently holding on to Louis’ shirt.

“Of course,” Louis said, moving back to stand at Harry’s side. _All the walks with you._ He thwacked his brain with a mental stick. _Baby-fucking-steps._

“Perfect,” Harry said with a sly grin, and he let go of Louis in favor of offering his own arm.

Louis happily let his fingers clasp to the bend by Harry’s elbow, the soft fabric of his see-through shirt brushing against Louis’ fingertips. 

“There’s a walkway here in Williamstown, just a block from here thought we could see the bay up close.”

“Please, lead the way, Mr. Styles.”

“Why thank you, sir,” Harry bent impressively low and pointed forward with a bowed head. Louis snorted.

“You’re oddly flexible.”

“It’s the yoga,” Harry commented off-handedly, already making his way forward.

Louis definitely did not think too much about Harry in certain yoga positions because that would’ve been wrong and not very acceptable for two pals. 

+

“So, we’ve talked about me. Let’s move on to you,” Harry suggested ten minutes later. They were placidly walking through the pier, listening to the city noises, and the occasional gust of wind. Louis even let his hands stay by the crook of Harry’s arm the whole time.

“What about me?” Louis asked then, feeling his back muscles tense up. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like sharing, but he was skittish about how far they would go before Harry would dig too deep and uncover the ugly parts too. 

It was one of the reasons he stayed clear of making too many friends. But, he also trusted Harry. He just wasn’t ready to share everything. Time hadn’t healed every wound, especially his deepest one. 

“Why are you afraid of thunderstorms?” Harry asked gently, not looking at Louis; instead, he stared straight ahead at the boats and lights from the rest of Melbourne, passing by slowly. Everything but Louis seemed to flow slowly.

Louis breathed in, let his heartbeat slow down, and his back relax. He didn’t need to be so scared all the time. The past couldn’t hurt him, as his therapist insisted. 

He looked at the lights and boats too, “I crashed under a thunderstorm.”

There was a beat, Harry walked slower and turned to look at Louis, his eyes rapt only giving Louis his complete attention. It was overwhelming, as everything about Harry was. “In Bahrain?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, left hand in his pocket and a crease in his brow, he wasn’t sure what opening up looked like, but he imagined it felt like that. “I remember just sitting there. I couldn’t really hear anything. I hit my head so hard I was almost deaf for four days. I just remember hearing the thunder, the sound of the storm above me. I couldn’t really move then. I was too dizzy to help myself. I fucked up my knee. They cut me out of the car and placed me on a stretcher. Nobody really knew how much it affected me,” Louis forced himself to remain still, not let his muscles contract or coil back by the memory. It had been so long ago then. 

“I thought the storm, the thunder, would’ve been the least of my worries, but it rained outside my hospital room every night. It rained when I was finally discharged. It rained when I arrived back home,” Louis bit his tongue then. _It rained when I came home and found the apartment empty, no Leo, but an e-mail with a set of pictures. His fiancé in Ibiza with another man. The e-mail said, ‘Thought you should see these.’_

It sliced through his heart, right down the middle. He almost forgot how to breathe. Eventually, he remembered how. A year later, Leonard was sentenced to six years in prison, and he was awarded a restraining order that was valid until the day of his death. Louis still couldn’t sleep some nights. Scared Leonard would come back. 

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry said sadly. Louis’ heart jumped slightly.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just worried that Bahrain will be as scary this time. Last year we didn’t race there, so I haven’t been back since the accident,” Louis commented. They passed by an elderly couple. They were laughing at something together, pointing at each other amusedly. Louis’ lips curved into a smile. 

“How about this,” Harry started, after the couple was further down the pier, “How about, you face Bahrain, and I face my first piece. We could do it together. By Sunday, after the race, I’ll show you what I managed to make, and you bring your first Grand Prix trophy of the season,” He looked down at Louis, mirth in his eyes. He was so happy all the time it made Louis want to smile more, be as optimistic.

Louis sucked air through his teeth and considered it. It seemed like a good plan. A sort of exercise to make it through the coming week. He didn’t see why it couldn’t work. It would also help Harry start a new collection, a new part of his life. “Let’s do it.”

Harry stopped walking and stepped from Louis’ hold, turning himself completely to face the racer. He smiled and raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

Louis nodded once, “I am, if you can show me a new art piece come Sunday evening, I can definitely win Bahrain, whatever it takes.”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed with slitted eyes, pink lips puckered in thought. He rubbed two of his long fingers around his mouth and then nodded, “It’s on,” he said, then stretched his ringed hand forward.

Louis smirked back, stretched his own hand, and let their palms connect. _Pure and absolute happiness. Imagine what it would feel like if this weren’t all there was._

_Shut up._

“It’s on.”

+

The flight to Bahrain was seven hours long. He was sat in Ferrari’s private plane, and Niall had already fallen asleep on the row behind him. Ben and Liam were sitting on one of the couches looking at onboard videos from last year's races, discussing apex entrances and tire settings. Two more Italian technicians were aboard in their own laptops, but Louis was content in his comfy chair with an iPad full of movies and a heavy duvet to help him sleep. After all, it was a Tuesday at five A.M. 

Harry and he decided to return to the hotel after another hour of walking and discussing easier topics from their lives. Harry talked about growing up with Gemma as a racer, his brief interest in go-karting, but his absolute addiction to paints and chalks. 

Louis told Harry about his six siblings, and Harry couldn’t believe it for most of the walk. He mentioned knowing Louis had a few sisters, but he never thought they were that many. 

They laughed about funny stories Zayn, Louis, and Liam had while drunk in New York and Harry made Louis double over when he mentioned giggling in his first-class painting a nude subject. All in all, it was safe to say that Louis’ mind and heart were in shatters, absolute chaos, and confusion. 

He enjoyed being close to Harry, the thrill that ran up his arms whenever they accidentally touched, or the almost vibrating atmosphere that encompassed them whenever it was just the two of them, content and comfortable in each other’s presence. It also scared the living shit out of Louis. How powerful it all felt, how palpable and unassuming. Like it was everything and nothing. 

Very confusing, indeed.

Louis could go hours inside his mind playing ping pong with his thoughts, but he knew he couldn’t do that if he planned on staying sane and focused. So, instead, he decided that he would fall asleep, wait for half of the flight to pass, and then choose a movie to watch. It wasn’t a long-term plan, but for the time being, it worked. 

+

Four hours later, Louis cracked an eye open and found Liam sitting on the chair next to his, reading a book about engineering. He had a grey hoodie on, and his reading light was at the lowest setting, probably so he wouldn’t bother Louis while he slept.

“Hey,” Louis said softly over the humming of the plane. Liam turned to him and smiled warmly back at his best friend. He set his book down after he marked it in between the pages. 

“Hi, did you sleep well?” Liam asked, sliding slightly down in his chair to be able to see Louis were he was laying almost completely horizontal. His eyes were heavy with sleep.

“I actually did. It’s been a while,” Louis replied quietly, Ben was napping a few chairs away. Liam hummed and nodded in acknowledgment. 

“Does that have anything to do with yesterday?” Liam asked slyly, tapping Louis’s elbow with his hand.

Louis rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Why do you say that? I told him it wasn’t a date.”

“Hmm,” Liam hummed and re-adjusted himself, so he was sitting upright again, “No reason, I just mean that you still went to dinner. You could’ve stayed in your room,” He trailed off, picking at a thread on his blanket. 

Louis fish-mouthed, “Well, I thought it rude to stand him up.”

“Of course,” Liam said, shrugging high and then dropping his shoulders back down. “I peeked through the movies they have here. There were quite a few. Forrest Gump, Titanic, Dunkirk, y’ know, just a few options.”

“Nice,” Louis threw back, squinting at him, “But, I’ve seen them all sadly, so I’d rather stick to my own.”

“Okay, suit yourself,” Liam said, almost laughing, his book open again and covering his view of Louis’ face. Louis huffed but didn’t let Liam see the rising blush coming from his neck. 

\+ 

The Bahrain International Circuit was surrounded by sand. It was a desert city, so it was to be expected. 

The circuit itself was enormous, as most of them were, and the paddock was full to the brim with people walking around, all from different teams. Louis had arrived only an hour before, and after scheduling some meetings with Ferrari representatives, he was free to roam around.

He was heading for the ground floor. Wesley, his athletic trainer, had shot him a text asking for him to reserve some time for physical therapy that same evening. Louis almost cried in frustration. 

Wes was a great physiotherapist and trainer. He helped Louis warm-up before every drive, he was in charge of keeping Louis in tip-top shape, and deem him fit to race before all the GPs.

He was also the dick who made Louis stretch his battered limbs further than humanly-possible and who made him yell in pain whenever he moved his leg a certain way to fix the permanent damage to his knee. Wes was a demon sent from hell to make Louis pay for all his sins. He was certain. 

Going back to his texts with him, he checked that he was heading for the right building. At that same moment, a new text appeared from ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ — aka, Harry.

**_may I join you? :)_ **

Louis stopped walking to look around the paddock. There were racers and technicians walking everywhere, which made it hard to spot Harry through the crowds. Trailers were unloading cars, and reporters and photographers were sitting under tents with their giant cameras.

**_further to your left_ **

Louis’s cheeks tinted red in embarrassment, looking to his left. There, to the side, leaning against a wall of the Sakhir building stood Harry. He was wearing all black. Black sport shorts, a black fitted shirt, a black bandana was holding his long curls back from his face, and big black sunglasses. He was also biting into an apple like nobody’s business. Louis squared his shoulders up and down to breathe a few times.

_you’ll do as you please anyway,_ Louis wrote back, Harry stared smugly at him from across the paddock. He pushed off the wall and made his way to Louis with the bitten apple in his hand.

Louis became hyper-aware of his choice of clothing then. He was wearing black sport shorts similar to Harry’s, a Ferrari t-shirt and his red cap with the number 28 emblazoned on the top. He hadn’t exactly dressed to impress. He swore Harry had told him he would arrive a day before the race. _What the fuck was he doing here?_

“Good afternoon sir,” Harry greeted with a slight curve of mirth in his lips. 

Louis continued walking to building 9, in favor of not letting Harry see the grin he was biting back. Harry followed at his side, “What are you doing here?” Louis asked, although this time he wasn’t desperate, but pleased. A lot could change in two months, it seemed. 

“I knew I would get bored of waiting around in London for three days, so I booked a flight after our marvelous date yest-”

“I’ll punch you if you call it a date Styles,” Louis interrupted with too little bite— so instead it came out airy and light. Damn it. 

“Of course, yes. After our friendly— not at all romantic or queer— dinner between pals. Here I am, as a result, and you can’t do anything about it. Sadly.”

“Hmm, sadly,” Louis agreed and kept walking, looking at the numbered buildings until he spotted number 9. “Aha,” He said to himself. Harry looked in interest toward the building, which looked the same as the other 30 around them.

“What are we doing here?” Harry asked like he’d been part of the plan all along. 

Louis cleared his throat and congratulated himself for not reacting violently instead, “I’m coming here to meet with my athletic trainer Wesley. He’s scheduled a torturous round of physiotherapy with me, so I must attend if I don’t want to be disqualified from the race. Lovely, innit’?” 

Harry frowned against the blinding sun rays that hit his face straight on, but Louis couldn’t discern anything else by the giant sunglasses he had on. Perhaps he could ask Harry to wear them at all times. He would be cured of this delusion much faster.

“Will it hurt?” Harry asked, instead.

Louis turned to him once they were inside the air-conditioned room, “Have you heard of any particular physical therapy that is relaxing?”

“No, now that I think about it,” Harry replied easily with a scrunched lip. “You’re okay with me being here then?” He asked dubiously. 

Louis shrugged and nodded, “I trust you. Also, I can use you as my punching bag instead of poor Barry the bear, there’s some positives.”

Harry chuckled and moved one of (ringless) hands to his sunglasses, pushing them from his face to the top of his head. Of course, he still had those incredibly beautiful green eyes that seemed to reduce Louis into a helpless romantic. What a terrible curse.

“I’m flattered 28,” Harry said, giving a very Hollywood-looking, all-teeth smile. Louis garnered all his strength to stay upright. He shook his head to physically rid himself of the afterthoughts.

“Savor it, don’t think it’ll last long when I pop your arm off.”

“He’s being dramatic, it’s not physical therapy if it hurts that much,” Wesley himself piped in from a hallway that led to his makeshift office. 

Louis turned immediately and gave Wes a big smile, “Wes! It’s been so long, mate.”

“Hi Lou. Three months isn’t that long,” He said, amused, letting Louis give him a quick hug. “And you must be Gemma’s brother, yeah?” Wes asked, side-stepping around Louis to shake Harry’s hand. “I’ve seen your work lad. Unbelievable genius.”

“Thank you, mate means a lot,” Harry said, all polite and kind. Louis turned to look at him and gestured for Harry to follow him. He nodded and walked inside the little room.

It had an examination table and various different objects used to help Louis exercise and prepare for a race. Of course, they weren’t using those for the day.

“Harry make yourself comfortable, and Lou get on the table, please,” Wes requested as he checked something on his laptop. 

“Actually, Harry’s serving as Barry today. He volunteered right before we came here,” Louis commented, looking at Harry. He was looking back at Louis with an amused tilted head. There was a touch of warmness there that Louis ignored completely. Be still my beating heart.

“Perfect saving grace. I forgot Barry in London,” Wesley chuckled.

“Everything happens for a reason, hmm,” Harry added smugly, still just looking at Louis. 

“Sure,” Louis said with a sarcastic nod. 

“Okay Lou, so let’s do some warming movements before we get to the good stuff.”

+

Fifteen minutes later, Louis’s recently injured left ankle and not recently injured knee, were already sore enough to call it a day. But Wesley made sure to let him know that they were only halfway done. 

“Let’s move on now,” Wesley murmured, were he was kneeling on the floor, holding on to Louis’s foot and ankle. 

Harry hadn’t had any major role to play in the session up until then when Wesley suddenly pushed Louis’ foot inward as far as it would go. Louis let his hand bolt to Harry’s general self for support with a yelp of pain. Harry was quick to make a sympathetic face while looking down at Wesley’s work and then was quicker to grab Louis’ hand and shoulder to let him squeeze it as much as he needed.

Louis’ fingers clasped firmly around Harry’s, and he closed his fist hard enough to make Harry’s fingers red and almost purple, but Harry didn’t complain at all. He just let his massive hand be destroyed while the other gently rubbed across Louis’s shoulders were his muscles were a mass of tense stress.

“Fuck’s absolute sake Wesley,” Louis complained tightly, his voice barely coming as he fought a scream. 

“Breathe Lewis,” Wesley teased amused, then bent his foot the opposite way, so his toes were facing downward to the floor.

“Ah, shit!” Louis cursed loud. Harry made a pained noise as he kept fixing his eyes from Louis’ foot to his face.

“Brace now,” Wesley advised, and Louis almost screamed again when he made his foot go the opposite way he’d bent it a month ago. 

“OW!” Louis screamed and bent his head low, his hand squeezing even tighter around Harry’s, who was worriedly eyeing Louis. 

“Breathe, 28,” Harry said lowly, so only Louis could hear. Louis was briefly distracted by the closeness of Harry’s voice to his ear, the unexpected intimacy. “Breathe.”  


Louis heeded Harry’s command and attempted a few exhales and inhales. After a few tries, it actually seemed to reduce the pain. Harry made a triumphant cheer. Louis rolled his eyes once Wesley let go of his foot. 

“Okay, I reckon the knee exercises won’t be as painful, but we’ve not done any in a few months,” Wesley explained as he instructed Louis to lay on his back and stretch both legs straight down. 

Louis grimaced still recalling the pain from their last session. It wasn’t as bad as the ankle, but it wouldn’t be enjoyable either.

“Okay, so Harry go over to that side of the table, there’s a chair there, you can pull it close to the table so Louis can keep breaking your fingers,” Wesley said amused, as he adjusted his glasses and felt around Louis’s knee. Harry chuckled but shook his head.

“Don’t mind it,” He said, looking at Louis’ profile. 

Louis’ cheeks heated up. “Won’t be saying that when you lose nerve endings there,” He replied quietly, making Harry laugh.

“Worth it,” He insisted quietly, and Louis wondered how he was supposed to survive a whole year of that.

“Ready Tommo,” Wesley said and grabbed ahold of Louis’ calf and knee. 

“Sure,” Louis gritted.

Wesley nodded and bent Louis’ leg to face inward as if he were sitting with crossed legs in the air. 

Louis attempted to make a noise that died on its way out, and Harry immediately placed a hand on Louis’ chest, the other still tightly held with Louis’ own. 

“Deep breaths Lou,” Harry murmured near his ear again, and Louis complied immediately.

“Ouch fuck,” Louis groaned as Wesley moved his leg in different angles. Harry moved the hand on his chest and instead brushed his fingers along Louis’ fringe, where some hairs were almost in his eyes. Louis got lost in the touch.

Wesley kept pulling and turning his leg like a rag doll, but Louis’ sole focus remained in the tips of Harry’s fingers pressed tenderly to Louis’ forehead, delicately moving the hair away from his face. He was _petting_ his hair, and Louis would’ve freaked out at any other time. Except Harry was so attentive and kind, Louis couldn’t bring himself to think about it. Harry was just nice like that. He knew there was no ulterior motive, at least not in that pocket of time.

Wesley kept pulling, pushing and turning Louis’ calf every which way, and any time he made any sort of pained noise, Harry was there to comfort him. It was sort of addicting after the third round of exercises. 

“All done,” Wesley chimed in after a while, and Louis’s eyes snapped back to him. “See? It wasn’t as bad as you said.”

Louis scoffed loudly, “Sure, Wesley, sure.”

+

After the session was over and Louis and Harry said goodbye to Wes, they both decided to grab some lunch at a local pizzeria not too far from the circuit.

“I heard their crust is heavenly,” Harry commented while scrolling through the most recent reviews of the restaurant. 

“Would love to find out, but I’ll have to go with a salad. Need to be light enough to weight down on the car as little as possible,” Louis said as he shook his left leg a few times to rid himself of the residual pain. 

“Does it still hurt?” Harry asked, looking concerned down at Louis’s leg. 

Louis shook his head, “It’s not that bad actually. I’m just the worst at handling pain.”

Harry kept staring as they got into the parking lot. “How come?” He asked curiously, sunglasses back on.

“Dunno, maybe a childhood thing. Can’t remember.”

“How often do you do therapy with Wesley?” 

They were now standing before a black, 2019, Mercedes-Benz G-Class. Harry fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car, walking around to climb into the driver’s seat.

“Not that often actually,” Louis said pensively, also climbing into the car through the passenger side, and fastening his seat belt. “I guess that’s what makes it painful. I never find the time to keep regularly attending. It has to be at least five days before a race, or I’m too sore to sit down for two hours in the cockpit.”

Harry laughed quietly, and Louis rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out. “Ugh, grow up, honestly.”

A beat then, “Cockpit.”

There was a minute-long silence where Harry didn’t move to turn on the car, and Louis refused to laugh at his joke. Then Harry broke down into hysterical laughter. Louis couldn’t do much to hold back his own.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a child,” Louis said, too pleased to sound like an insult. 

+

“Okay Lou, I can see you’re pulling again. I need you to ease into that pedal,” Ben ordered from the earpiece in Louis’ helmet. 

Louis sighed loud. He knew he was pulling. He’d been pulling for the last three days. It was Thursday, which meant it was the last day of practice before qualifying tomorrow.

“Copy,” Louis replied shortly. The car trembled as he went down the straight, the engine’s high-pitched roar almost deafening as he pushed even further with his right foot. The tires were brand new. He’d decided to switch for a set of softs. Ben had drilled him enough for three days on the hards and mediums. Now he was just looking for the best lap time, which Gemma held since the first day of practice. Liam tried to valiantly beat her record but only managed to do it once before she was back on track to reclaim it. Louis was frustrated, but he knew he was holding back. He’d been holding back on purpose, and Ben was a few minutes short of forcing Louis’ foot down on the gas. 

With a deep exhale, Louis focused solely on the track ahead, and let his heartbeat quicken with the speed of the car. He had to do this. If not for himself, then for the team. 

Turns 1 and 2 flew by in a flash. He was breathing fast as he eased the car into turn 3. In his rearview mirror, he could make the orange front of Hugo Chevalier’s McLaren, trailing behind him. He ignored the other racer in favor of maintaining his speed, steady and sure. He couldn’t afford the luxury of any distraction. He was set and fast through a complicated turn 4, then graceful all the way to turn 8. Exactly when things went wrong. 

Chevalier was still tailing behind Louis when infamous turns 9 and 10 reared their ugly heads in. 

Louis was keeping his breathing as steady as possible, his foot leaning and pulling from the brake, his fingers working with muscle memory on the gearing paddles. 

His speed and apex point were flawless by the time he checked his mirror and saw in slow-motion, the car of Hugo Chevalier slide violently to the side of the track, rolling away from Louis’ view until there was only a cloud of sand where the racer once was. It only took Louis more than seven years of experience and practice not to faint and follow suit with Chevalier’s car through a wall. 

“Fuck,” Louis mumbled with tight lips. His eyes were frozen wide, and his chest was faltering with each beat. _Fuck_. 

“Louis, box now. Crash at turn 9, box, box, box,” Ben instructed calmly, the only hint of distress in the slight rise of volume in his voice. 

Louis did not answer, but he pressed a button labeled ‘Copy’ on his steering wheel, too shell-shocked for words. His car was still steadily trembling with the speed Louis was putting it through, but he was no longer going fast enough to beat Gemma’s time, a yellow flag was up and waving through every turn. _Slow down,_ it meant. 

_Don’t freak out Louis, don’t freak out. It’s fine. Everything’s fine._

The circuit rapidly ended, and in the blink of an eye, Louis had forcibly parked his car within the Ferrari garage. His chest felt constricted, tight. _Something was definitely wrong._

Louis was fast. He removed his helmet with a sharp tug and then forcibly removed every wire and cable from his racing suit, throwing everything carelessly on top of the car before he pulled himself out in one rapid movement. Engineers were attempting to help Louis untether himself from the car, but Louis was done before they could put a finger on him. He needed air. He needed to walk away. He needed to feel safe, away from the sound of engines running, away from everything. A camera was focused on him, zoomed straight at his face. Louis felt the air leave his lungs too fast.

He bolted for the backdoor of the garage, his feet almost weightless as he attempted to let some air enter his thinned lungs. He felt a vice gripping his throat, no oxygen coming in. There was a faint stinging in his eyes. Probably tears but he couldn’t tell. His face felt numb. His body was running too hot. 

His eyes darted fast through all the different signs labeling the rooms, everything almost blurry. At the end of the hallway, he spotted the bathrooms and managed to form a coherent thought. Hide there. His feet were taking him as fast as they could.

Then, from a room emerged Harry, focused on his phone with a frown and his earbuds in, moving his head softly to whatever music he was listening to. Louis did not process the fact he was there. A million thoughts and memories were flashing too quickly past his eyes to let him see anything else but the utter panic and terror sitting full in his belly. 

“28?” Harry called loudly once Louis managed to fly past him, smashing the bathroom door open and letting it swing shut quietly behind him.

His breathing was heavier, he could barely breathe anymore, there was too little air around him, and he didn’t know how to grasp a sense of reality. He needed to focus all his energy on the present, but he was struggling to make the images of his own spinning car leave his mind.

_Down turn 8, almost at turn 9, the rain is too heavy, barely see a thing, probably should say something, the race is almost done, won’t say anything, the wheel’s locked— it won’t move. The tires gave out, the car’s dead. It’s spinning too fast. Blow to the head. Pain. So much pain. Leonard. No._

Louis could hear his own body gasping for air loud and violent, but then he also heard the door of the bathroom swing open with a hard push, and he could see Harry standing there, looking at Louis like he was a cornered animal. He felt like one. It made sense.

“Lou, talk to me,” Harry commanded fast. He seemed desperate to understand so he could deal with whatever was happening. He needed to fix it quickly so Louis could be okay again. Somewhere in Louis’s subconscious, there was the warmest feeling. On the surface, there was only fear. _He won’t race again. How can he?_

“P-panic attack,” Louis gasped, his whole body trembling as if he would combust soon. 

Harry’s eyes were calculating. He was looking at Louis carefully, assessing what he could do.

“Louis, listen to me darling,” Harry’s wide hands were gesturing to his face, he had rings again. 

Louis gasped for more air, his heart jackrabitting with terror. He crossed his arms around himself, attempting to hold his sanity together.

“Five things, Lou, five things you can see, tell me,” Harry requested softly, speaking over Louis’ loud breaths. 

Louis understood, he breathed shallowly, “T-the door, the ceiling, the sinks,” Louis breathed again, “the stalls, the floor.”

“Okay, four things you can touch, show me,” Harry continued, approaching Louis slowly, hands were Louis could see them, both stretched in front of him.

Louis closed his eyes tightly, let them be pressed down before he opened them again and breathed loud, he stretched a hand and let his index finger slide lightly, “The uh- the mirror, the soap dispenser, the window, y-you,” his voice faltered as he let his arm extend to Harry who was standing closer. Louis touched the center of the artists’s chest. Harry nodded quickly.

“Good, now tell me three things you can hear,” Harry said quieter as Louis’ breaths slowed down gradually.

Louis focused, he willed his mind to focus only on the sounds around him. “A drill outside, a fan, the water’s dripping,” His eyes were now closed as he felt his chest contract and move slowly. His heartbeat began to calm, as well.

“Two you can smell,” Harry whispered, now so close he was almost by Louis’s ear, his deep voice like a rumble in the echoing bathroom walls.

“Soap,” Louis numbered, and then Harry’s own cologne flowed near him, “Vanilla.”

“Wonderful, and tell me what you taste,” Harry’s voice carried only because of how little space remained between the two of them. 

Louis’ dry mouth felt like a dessert, but he realized the bathroom was no longer filled by his gasping breaths. “T-toothpaste.”

Harry nodded and held the back of Louis’s arms, “Will you sit with me for a sec?”

Louis’s distracted blue eyes flicked between the far wall deep in his thoughts to Harry’s lips, his voice. He nodded dumbly, and his body gave out immediately. Harry was quick to hold Louis to his chest. Louis slowly felt himself roll down until his face was in Harry’s lap, eyes lazily blinking as he forgot everything before that moment. 

“You’re okay, you’re safe,” Harry repeated a few times. 

Louis’ mind could only hear that faint ringing. The lingering ringing from his crash two years ago. The one that almost killed him. He only heard the ringing sometimes. When he was listening to music too loud, when a sudden noise was too loud, when he went underwater for a while, or when he was overwhelmed, and the outside world fell silent. He’d grown used to the ringing, the occasional morning headache because he’d heard it all night. 

Harry’s voice seemed like the perfect buffer to silence the noise, the memories, the thoughts, the fear. He was caressing Louis’s hair, similar to the way he did with Wesley. He was gentle, never overdoing it. He was just there because he wanted to be, not because he had to. 

Louis’ eyes focused after another ten minutes, his cloudy vision clearing. His confusion made way for the sinking realization, the fact of reality. Then his stomach dropped.

“I’m sorry. I’m a mess,” Louis mumbled into the fabric of Harry’s pants. His long legs were stretched ahead of him, his back leaning against a wall, Louis laying over him. What a bloody mess.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked he sounded genuinely curious. If Louis had the will, he would’ve scoffed at him.

“I keep bloody doing this,” He hid his face in the space between Harry’s thighs. It wasn’t very pal-like, but Louis wasn’t online at the moment. He would chastise himself in due time.

“For someone who’s media trained, you’re incredibly vague at answering questions properly,” Harry chuckled, and his voice carried to the walls, resonating in the tiles back to them. Louis breathed in the smell of Harry. He was lying almost on top of his knees, so he was surprised there was any smell. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Did you force me to come in here?” Harry asked matter-of-factly.

“You’re just nice, you came in here because you’re too kind,” Louis answered sulkily.

“Or— just hear me out— it’s because I care for you,” Harry said with a smile in his voice, his long fingers carding deeply into Louis’ short hair. Which, right. All of that happened.

Louis’ heartbeat sped up for a completely different reason, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit Harry was always the sole cause. He was irresistibly magnetic. Louis was just a helpless victim. 

“I’ll agree to disagree,” Louis concluded, pulling his head from Harry’s hold, sitting back up to lean against the wall too. “How did you know how to do that?” 

“I uh— I learned in rehab. There was a girl, couldn’t be more than 17. She was withdrawing from MDMA. That drug is incredibly destructive— messes with your whole body. She was always so scared. She would get these horrible panic attacks. We would be sitting at dinner all of us together, and she would drop to the floor in the middle of the cafeteria and start shaking. The nurses knew how to help her calm down, and eventually, I learned from seeing them do it so often,” Harry was playing with his rings, deep in his head.

“That must’ve been tough,” Louis said softly.

“It was at first, but the more time I spent around other addicts, the more I felt like I wasn’t alone. Like I wasn’t the only one running away from my demons. I discovered quickly that the people who become addicts are the ones who feel they have no one else to turn to. I guess I felt I didn’t, until I found the courage to talk to my mum about it.”

Whenever Harry spoke, Louis noticed he would scrunch the middle of his brow in contemplation. As if he was listening to himself talk, deciding, and weighing what made sense to say, what sounded right. It was incredibly distracting.

“Are you ever scared of relapsing?”

Harry contemplated again. His hands were interlocked, pulling and turning his gold initialed rings, mouth puckered but not frowning down as if he were displeased. “Every now and then, I guess. There’s always that chance that something might be the trigger. I’ve noticed that the smell of alcohol can be one—some memories. But, most of all, if I feel myself getting stressed or overwhelmed, there’s a thought at the back of my head, a quiet, ‘shit, what would I give for a line right now,’ it’s disgusting, and it turns my stomach, but I can’t control what happens up here,” He rapped his head softly with his knuckles. Louis wished he could take all his pain away. An idea struck him.

“I’ll stay sober with you, then,” Louis said.

Harry started shocked, “W-what?”

“Yeah, as long as it helps you. We can do it together,” Louis said meaningfully. He didn’t let his gaze waver from Harry’s own. He needed him to know he meant it. Anything to help. Everything.

“Oh,” Harry muttered, visibly taken aback. “That—” he scrunched his brow, “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Louis shrugged, letting his back rest back into the wall again. He breathed deeply. The only sounds were the dripping water in one of the sinks, the ceiling fan, and the faint sound of people walking by outside. He was surprised nobody had come in yet. They would look insane to anyone who saw them. An artist with rings on every finger, stylish clothes, and fancy shoes, and then a racer in a racer’s suit, flushed cheeks and battered hair that went in every direction.

Then, Harry puffed a small exhale and clasped his hands in his lap. “So, what happened back there?”

Louis turned to look at Harry’s profile. He was analyzing the adjacent wall by the door. His earbuds were scattered in his neckline, and he was wearing a simple black Mercedes crewneck t-shirt. He had wide flared black pants that were flowing on to the bathroom floor. Louis briefly thought how dirty the floor could be, but it was fine for the time being.

Louis then cleared his throat and told Harry about Chevalier’s crash how it triggered something. It made him freak out and leave everything there. He reckoned they were looking for him then. Practice times were reserved for half an hour only.

“I think you were brave,” Harry said, his arms resting crossed on his stomach. He was staring at the ceiling, thinking. “I believe that just getting behind the wheel is brave. I don’t know how Gemma manages. All the instructions they throw at you while you’re trying to drive? That’s insane. You do it with such grace, too,” Harry shook his head. 

“I just try my best,” Louis rasped, voice slightly grainy. He cleared his throat. “It’s enough.”

“It’s more than enough,” Harry insisted, pushing his upper body from the wall, turning to Louis with a growing curve in his mouth, “You don’t see yourself as the rest of the world sees you, Louis. You’re a legend on the track. You’re never scared. If you are, you don’t show it. I’ve only gotten to see you because you’ve let me see you. You’re confident and fast, you do what you must to win, and you never get there stomping on the competition. You’re so much more than you let yourself understand. I just wish you could, I really do,” Harry’s eyes were fervent, bold with emotion like they were begging Louis to understand, to look at himself like the artist saw him. 

Maybe, Louis could, if Harry was there to show him. Perhaps, that attraction wasn’t such a curse. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. He would have to wait a little longer to find out, though. 

“I’ll get there someday. If you don’t mind waiting, I might just… catch up to you,” Louis answered in a whisper. His voice didn’t echo because it was meant for Harry only.

Harry’s breath caught slightly. His green, green beautiful green eyes shivered as he looked at him. He seemed to be looking for complete honesty. He was making sure that Louis meant what he’d said. But, Louis did, so he didn’t worry.

Eventually, Harry seemed sure, and he nodded once, brow creased minimally, eyes bright and pink lips beautiful, so perfectly mesmerizing. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening! Also, I'm sorry for taking so long to write this. There are a few things I always have to go back and fix. I hope everyone's staying safe and inside. Lots of love to you all.

_“The race is on folks, it’s a perfect Sunday evening, the cars are ready to roll, and the racers grid is officially set up. We’ve got Ferrari’s Louis Tomlinson on pole position, Mercedes’s Gemma Styles on second, and Ferrari’s Liam Payne on third. This particular track is one to be committed to memory. Fifty-seven laps, 3.36 miles long, 2 DRS zones, and more than a thousand lamps illuminate this circuit. But, nothing’s too bright for this year’s biggest talent, Louis Tomlinson. As we can all remember, the last time Formula 1 grazed this particular city, Tomlinson suffered from a dramatic crash, which rendered him unable to attend three Grands Prix that year. Nonetheless, he still managed to amass enough wins to bring home the constructor’s championship for Ferrari—’’_

“Enough of that,” Wes muttered, dialing down the radio’s volume. 

Louis was quiet as he concentrated entirely on his warming exercises. He was bent down, nose almost to his knees, and his feet placed perfectly side by side. He exhaled after holding his breath for five seconds. Wes placed his palm on Louis’ back, helping him dip lower into his stretches.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Wes said, and Louis released in relief, his muscles burning slightly. 

“I don’t know why I’ve managed to get so flexible, we don’t do enough of these to make sense,” Louis breathed heavily as he went for his bottle of water, chest slightly damp from the workout. The race was only two hours from starting, the energy everywhere outside Wes’s office was almost electric. Excitement, fear, anxiousness, hunger, you name it.

“I could bore you with the science, but I’ll just leave it for the pint you owe me back in London,” Wes sat back in his desk, letting Louis gather his cellphone, sunglasses, and keys to the garage. A beat then, “How come your friend Harry didn’t come?”

Louis pursed his lips and looked at Wes with a ‘really?’ look, because Wes knew him. He knew his story, knew parts of what Leonard did, and he knew that Harry and him weren’t starting anything. At least not that Louis was aware of. 

“He had other things to do, and I didn’t ask him,” Louis said. Then folded his clean shirt, opting instead to head back to the Ferrari headquarters for a shower.

“Hmm, interesting,” Wes trailed off, playing with his phone in his hands. “S’just that I was perusing Twitter and I saw that everyone was pretty keen on the two of you as _more_ than friends.”

Louis’ ears perked, his heart beating slightly faster, “What?”

“There are lots of pictures of the two of you. The fan accounts have something called a ‘ship,’ and they want you both in it. I dunno, I’m too old to understand them,” Wes shrugged, looking at Louis like any minute he would confess his undying love for Harry. 

Louis’s eyes scrunched shut. People were catching on, so the press would be quick to follow. Shit.

“Look, nothing’s going on with Harry and I. He’s just very…” Louis thought of a way to explain it without making Harry sound attracted to him, “…nice.”

Yikes.

Wes smiled amused, but nodded nonetheless, “Well, I believe you, Lou. I just don’t think your fans will be as easy to convince. But,” Wes looked pointedly at Louis, “If anything does happen, let me know.”

Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Nothing’s going to happen, don’t hold your breath.” 

He grabbed his racing boots and made for the door.

“Sure,” Wes threw back just before Louis rushed out of his office. 

+

An hour later, everyone was gathered by the starting line of the circuit.

Louis would’ve been worried about it, except he was distracted by Harry, kneeling beside Gemma’s W10, making a little girl shriek with laughter.

He’d been calmly stretching next to his SF1000, letting his back relax and release all the tension. Until his attention was caught by Harry, a big full-teeth smile, talking to a little girl wearing a tiny version of the Mercedes T-shirt. He was as attentive with the girl as he would be with any serious adult, frowning in concentration as the girl explained something with wild gestures. Harry would then say something, and the little girl would let out a big laugh, protesting at whatever Harry would say. She was now back to explaining something to him, which seemed to have something to do with cars. She couldn’t be more than five. 

Then Niall cooed, right next to Louis’ ear, making him jump three feet in the air.

“Aww, look at that wee thing,” Niall said with a scrunched face. 

“Shit, fuck Niall,” Louis cursed quietly so nobody else could hear him. There was a child present, and cameras, lots and lots of cameras. 

Niall noticed he’d scared Louis and then cackled. He had his red suit on, and his helmet was dangling from his right hand. Louis wanted to punch him.

“Did ya see the news about Harry and you?” Niall asked, distracted already, looking around, peeking at the other cars.

“What news? This is getting worse,” Louis said, then rubbed his temples to ward off the headache he could feel blooming in his skull.

“Fans on twitter call you Larry Stylinson, it’s a mash of your name’s together. I almost peed myself, thought you’d seen it already,” Niall’s big sunny smile was in full display as he turned to look at Louis. 

He was quietly sulking, looking at Harry with a different emotion now. He wasn’t warm anymore. “It’s officially a nightmare, pinch me.”

He did. Louis yelped. “Why’d you do that?” He protested.

“You told me to,” Niall shrugged. Louis rolled his eyes. Harry was now standing up, talking to a lady who seemed to be the mother of the little girl. Gemma was smiling at what she was saying, and Harry was nodding, a smaller smile but still happy, calm. He looked good. 

He was sporting his own Mercedes T-shirt, tight black jeans and black trainers. He was wearing giant sunglasses again and the black and white bandana too. His muscles were almost obvious through the tight shirt, his biceps were broad and flexed where his arms were bent, holding a water bottle he was slowly drinking from. His fingers had no rings, but his tattoos were in full display. Niall definitely noticed Louis salivating.

“It’s almost time, mate, you can check him out later,” Niall said smugly. Then he ducked fast away from Louis’s hand so he wouldn’t be swatted behind the head. 

Louis forced himself to look away from Harry’s defined back, turning to ask for his driving gloves instead. He needed to get to work.

“Lou!” Harry called then. Louis’s heart made a slight jolt in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of turning to Harry again, going for a chill façade. 

“Hi,” Louis said with a hand covering the side of his mouth, he could feel cameras on him.

“Why are you covering your mouth?” Harry asked, amused.

“Because it seems Twitter’s decided we’re a couple and they’re watching everything we do,” Louis said with wide eyes, trying to send across that it was a huge deal. 

Harry didn’t react like Louis expected, which was, at all. He didn’t seem to mind. Of course, he wouldn’t. It was precisely what he wanted. “Cover your mouth,” Louis urged.

Harry giggled in an odd sound and turned to the two cameras, which were on both of them. He looked back to Louis, “Boyfriend, boyfriend boyfriend, boyfriend,” He said as if he were speaking actual words in a real conversation. Louis’ mouth fell wide open.

“You little piece of shit.”

Harry laughed, and laughed, and laughed, “Oh Louis, light of my life. I hope you win this race today, ha ha,” He said exaggerated, over pronouncing the words. Then, to Louis’s horror, he went and _hugged_ him, petting his hair like a _dog._

“Get off me, you prick!” Louis yelped quietly, jamming his fingers into Harry’s side. 

Harry squirmed and made all sorts of noises, but he didn’t let go of Louis.

Louis’s cheeks felt hot, and his pulse had migrated to his neck. Fucking Harry.

“Let go, or I’ll knee you in the balls,” Louis muttered with a smile, a camera rounding on them.

“Fine,” Harry said. He let go reluctantly and then did some sort of hair flip, bringing his short curls forward and then back, raking through them with his fingers. He fixed it as if he had a mirror in front of him.

After he was completely done, Louis asked: “Are you quite finished?” With the unmistakable sass, Johanna Deakin gave to him as a little boy. 

Harry paused there for a second, and then he laughed hard, looking like he’d been caught. Louis couldn’t help the tiny smile that escaped him. Harry’s laugh was terribly contagious.

“Yeah,” Harry said through his smile, and Louis nodded.

The camera hovered away from them to film Gemma as her team helped set everything up for her. She was already aboard her car, helmet on with the visor up, talking to the team principal for Mercedes. 

“I’ll see you after the race 28,” Harry said fondly, eyes boring into Louis when the moment passed. Louis’ stomach was full of butterflies. Growth was accepting and acknowledging that as a fact.

“I’ll see you,” Louis whispered back, the air becoming more delicate, the noises and voices quieting around them. It was like stepping into a pocket of HarryandLouis with nobody else in it.

“Remember our deal,” Harry said, green, green eyes. God, how Louis wished to have them so close, he went cross-eyed staring into them.

“I do,” Louis answered, head floating somewhere far away. The power Harry had over him was spectacularly terrifying.

“Okay, I’ll show you what I did tonight, at the hotel then,” Harry replied, nodding once.

Louis nodded back. Harry smiled in a little laugh and then turned toward Gemma’s car, kneeling to talk to her.

Louis sighed so loud he wondered if no one else heard.

+

The car was driving okay, which made Louis’ muscles relax slightly. He wouldn’t wholly calm down until after he was over the finish line, no matter the place. 

Although he wasn’t complaining about leading the race.

Gemma had almost immediately taken the first position when the lights went green. Louis was left perplexed at her speed, but he managed to recover by the eighteenth lap. She’d been hard to shake. But then, Louis gathered all his pent up courage and slammed low on the pedal, letting his car speed forward, DRS activated, and in the blink of an eye, Gemma was suddenly in his rearview mirror— no longer in front of him. That’d been twenty laps ago. Since then, Petrovich had overtaken Liam and was currently in third place, Liam pushing to regain his spot five laps since then.

Louis was technically safer at the front of the circuit too. Clean air was the best way to have a solid grip of the tires, and while it hadn’t rained, the sky wasn’t looking to clear. Ben warned they might box for a set of wet tires if the weather changed. Louis wasn’t looking forward to the rain. He feared it might cost him the GP. He didn’t dwell on it for much longer. 

“Okay, Lou, you’ve run out on the DRS gap, so it’s all down to you from here,” Ben announced in his ear. Louis maneuvered the car down turn five then pressed his ‘Copy’ button, seeing Gemma dangerously close as he made turn six then 7. He took eight as wide open as he could manage, cutting the chance for Gemma or Petrovich to get in front of him. 

Turns were for offensive plays; straights were for defensive. One of the perks and curses from the Bahrain track was the run-off areas.

The track didn’t have any gravel zones, which meant cars were never beached. Drivers actually used the extra tarmac as a way for overtaking, and in Louis’s case, he was at a sort of disadvantage in the turns. Cars could sneak up at his sides, and it wasn’t technically ruled a penalty unless the driver made it look too obvious, which Petrovich knew how not to do. He was a professional at fooling marshals and race officials. He knew how to make it look like an accident like he was always slipping. In wet tracks, he was scarier. He would make his car slide slightly on purpose, risking other drivers getting hit by his own car. That hadn’t happened yet, but Louis had an inkling that Avilov wouldn’t care if it did happen. 

With that, while Louis was focused on blocking Gemma’s maneuver in turn 8, Avilov managed to slip past the two of them from the outside of the track, right where there was enough grass to squeeze the two right tires. In a blink, Avilov took the first position and was leading the race. Fans were probably cheering him on—nasty cheater. 

“Ben, that can’t be right, he came in from the inside,” Louis said shakily, the car’s speed rattling his voice. 

“The officials are going over it as we speak. He might be ordered to let you and Styles through. For now, focus on staying ahead, overtake Petrovich as soon as possible,” Ben ordered sternly, sounding stressed. Louis breathed briefly before his focus returned to the rapidly moving floor coming before him.

He took the straight through the open side, attempting to take Petrovich once turn one came up, but he wasn’t keen on letting his position off so quickly, so he made a sudden swerve with his car, which forced Louis to avoid contact by shifting slightly away from him too. Louis scoffed and raised a hand at him, a clear ‘what the fuck are you doing?’

Petrovich did not acknowledge him. Louis pressed the ‘Mic’ button in his wheel, “Ben, this man is out of control, I don’t know what his problem is, but…” Louis paused to drive through turn three smoothly, Gemma right behind him. “He needs to be disqualified, He tried to swerve me off,” Louis said, focusing again on turn 4 with Gemma almost right beside him then. Offense Louis, come on.

“Understood, the officials are still going through the footage. I don’t know how long it’ll be. You’re eleven laps from the checkered flag, eleven laps,” Ben responded with a clear voice. He needed to clarify what he said every time since the mics didn’t have the best audio feedback. 

“Copy,” Louis grunted, voice wavering as he sped down to turn 10, Petrovich not too far ahead, but still unfairly, in the lead. Louis wished he could just ram his car into him, make him retire from the GP. Every year there had to be some drama with Petrovich, no matter how many times he switched teams. He wondered why he was still asked to drive. Then he thought it was probably because of the situation he was in. He was a smart cheater, a dirty driver.

Two more laps went by relatively the same with Gemma coming very close in one turn to overtaking Louis before he managed to block her attempts after that. 

“Officials are letting you through, next turn overtake Avilov, he will yield back to third,” Ben said more mellow, obviously relieved they weren’t actually losing the podium.

“Got it,” Louis said, and he couldn’t hold the smug smile from his voice. Sweet lady karma.

“Eight more laps to the checkered flag, eight more laps,” Ben then finished.

“Andiamo sul podio,” Louis responded. _Let’s go to the podium_.

“Andiamo,” Ben answered slightly happier than he usually was through a race.

As turn three came up, Avilov decreased his speed more than necessary, letting Gemma and Louis overtake him. Louis didn’t waste the golden chance to pass by him and flip him off. Fran would talk his ear off for that one. Especially in the golden age of social media— it would spread like wildfire.

Worth it.

Three laps later, Liam managed to regain his third position, Avilov sinking back to fifth. Louis really liked happy endings. 

+

“YEAH! Come on, lads, Grazie, grazie!” Louis yelled into his helmet, driving his victory lap around the circuit while the other’s parked back into the pit-box. Louis had _missed_ it. The euphoria, the energy of his teammates when he parked in the winner’s strip, right in front of shiny number 1. 

“Come on, Tommo!” Dean yelled, patting his helmet in excitement. Niall was next, shaking his head with a mad laugh and then slapping Louis’s back so hard he almost lost a lung. Liam was also hugged, kissed, and yelled at. Ben was calmer, but still, even he couldn’t hold back the shiny twinkle of pride in his eyes. He hugged Louis tight. He’d done it. He’d won Bahrain.

“Go to the podium, you _bastard,”_ Niall’s shiny, happy yell traveled over a few technicians still tapping Louis’ back and congratulating him in Italian. 

Louis laughed at Niall, who was just happy laughing incredibly loudly over the noise and cheering of the fans, the other teams, and the announcer waiting at the podium with three bottles of champagne.

It was tradition to douse the winner of the Grand Prix with it, but Louis’s plans for the night were different than previous years, so he opted instead to let Gemma and Liam spray each other, and then Louis dumped half of the bottle on each one of them by the end. They were laughing, and by the time pictures came up, there were two soaked drivers with flushed cheeks and giant smiles and Louis with slightly messed up hair and a big proud grin. He would definitely frame that picture in his apartment.

“Well done, Lou,” Gemma said once they stepped off the numbered platforms, her hair dripping with champagne, and her smile stretched wider than it seemed possible. She looked elated, and her honey-colored eyes seemed incredibly similar to her brother’s.

“Thank you, love. You’re a legend, though, had me sweating for half of the race,” Louis laughed, and Gemma smiled close-lipped, rolling her eyes and flicking her braid over her shoulder. 

“Oh, stop,” She said and then laughed, “You should savor this win Tommo, next time it won’t be so easy.”

“Looking forward to it.”

They commented about Petrovich’s penalty for a few minutes before aforementioned Fran appeared in front of Louis, signaling to a reporter standing over her shoulder with a giant camera behind her. Gemma finally mentioned planning a day out in London with everyone, and Louis promised to call her to make it happen.

“I need you for _six_ interviews, Lewis,” Fran said through her teeth, used to do that since she knew they typically let cameras roll with a live feed even if nobody was doing an interview.

Louis nodded fervently, “Yes, yes, but, please, after the press conference, let me go, pretty please Fran,” Louis pouted and clasped his hands together. 

Fran stared at him for a while, probably considering how bad it would be to let the star of the night disappear without even attending the after-party at the circuit. It was bad, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. 

“Fine, for fuck’s sake,” She muttered with her back to the camera, rolling her eyes and slouching her back in exhaustion. “Grey hairs, Tomlinson. Grey, fucking hairs.”

Fran was over-exaggerating. She was thirty, but she looked like a twenty-year-old. She had straight, short, jet black hair. She always wore red lipstick, which looked marvelous with her pale skin. She also limited herself to black pencil skirts and fashionable white blouses while she was with Louis at Grands Prix events. Most of the time, she only sent Louis very angry emails asking why he was on the paper. She was in charge of fixing it if he messed up. So Louis tried not to mess up. But, the English tabloids did love their gossip.

“Tuesday, I need you over at my office in London. This Harry business is starting to blow up,” Fran looked at him with a solid face, like she was used to Louis’s scandals. Which she was, but Louis still scoffed offended. He didn’t have _that_ many romance scandals. “Grow up,” She ordered and patted his shoulder mockingly.

Louis laughed and shrugged her manicured handoff, “Okay, let’s do some interviews.”

+

An hour and a half later, Louis was freshly showered, in a set of black joggers with a tight black shirt and a pair of black Vans. He’d officially baptized the outfit his Getaway do-up. He normally brought it with him before races. After showering at the track, he would dress into it and sneak out with the staff, happy to avoid post-celebratory stimulation. It was overwhelming.

At the moment, he was slightly lowered from people’s view as he tried to click the unlock button in his keys, ready to drive away from the track and meet up with Harry.

Only thirty minutes before, he’d received a text from the man in question.

**_Room 134, see u soon ;)_ **

Louis wasn’t daft enough not to understand he meant to meet him there so they could see Harry’s piece. Still, his cheeks went embarrassingly pink at the stupid winking face. Get a grip, Louis.

Once he managed to make his car door open, Louis was swift enough to climb into the driver’s seat, turn on the Ferrari and drive away as quietly as he could make the car go.

+

“ _Floor 134,_ ” The elevator announced in a woman’s voice. Louis almost started in fright. 

Harry’s floor looked exactly like his own, as it was to be expected. Cream carpeted floors, fancy marble detailing on the walls, and chandeliers in the hallway.

The doors almost merged into one as he walked as slowly as he could manage through the halls. The last thing he needed was for Harry to hear him eagerly arrive at his door. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Room 134 was at the end of a long hallway, isolated from Room 133, and with a Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle. Louis rolled his eyes and knocked twice, as quietly as he could.

He balanced on the balls of his feet, sucking in his teeth as he looked at the ceiling, the walls at his side, the door markings, the floor, and his battered shoes. Then, Harry swung the door open, and Louis looked up at him. He was wearing a simple grey shirt and the same pair of shorts from three days ago. His hair was looser than he’d ever seen it, parted in the middle and falling on to the two sides. He looked extremely breathtaking and hot. Growth.

Then the man threw himself at Louis, encompassing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight. “Can’t believe you fucking did it, Lou,” Harry mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, which in turn warmed the patch of skin there. He could get used to living the rest of his life right there. 

Louis’s muscles, which tensed only for a second at the unexpected touch, immediately melted, relaxing into Harry’s embrace. “Thank you, H,” Louis said too softly. Where had his self-control gone? He’d definitely had it when he arrived.

“I almost got told off by the guy next door. I screamed bloody murder when you got past the finish line,” Harry’s smile was giddy when he released Louis, who in turn almost reached right back to let him stay there. Not yet, though.

Louis laughed again.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Harry gestured to the big bedroom, stepping to the side so Louis could come in. So, he did. The first word that came to mind was ‘tidy.’

The TV was muted on the sports channel. They were replaying the race. Louis let his eyes scan over the perfectly made bed, the suitcase on a pedestal, and Harry’s three pairs of very expensive shoes lined up next to an archway. It probably led to the rest of Harry’s room. 

Slowly stepping in, his suspicions were confirmed. The archway led to a giant living room with another TV and a second bathroom. Louis turned to Harry with an open mouth, “Why on earth do you have a bigger room?” He demanded.

Harry was busy checking him out, his eyes going up and down Louis’s body. He bit his bottom lip as he finished, looking back at Louis’ face. “I was just nice to the receptionist, he said it was the last one available,” Harry said, still distracted, a smug grin raising half of his lips, his eyes shamelessly moving everywhere over Louis again.

“Hello? Can you stop scanning me, you minx?” Louis waved his hands at him.

Harry blinked exaggeratedly hard and returned his eyes upward, “Sorry you wearing all-black does things to me.”

Louis scoffed and turned for the living room, ears burning. “Sure,” He muttered.

“What was that?” Harry called from his bedroom, rummaging around his suitcase. Louis scoffed a laugh but didn’t let him hear it.

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Well, here,” Harry said and then paused, before he was in the living room too, now holding a red sketchbook and a covered canvas protected by a white cloth, “Is my side of the deal,” He sat down close by Louis’ side on the very big and spacious couch that could have let him sit down _anywhere_ else. 

“Are you comfortable?” Louis asked unamused, though his quirking lip gave him away.

“I sure am,” Harry drawled in an American accent, going through his sketchbook before he stopped and let it stay close to his chest. “So, this is what I did on the plane here, and on the days before Quali. On Saturday I drew up an idea and transferred it to that canvas,” He pointed to the covered painting leaning against the coffee table. Louis would’ve been lying if he’d said that he wasn’t extremely intrigued.

“Well, what will you show me?” Louis asked carefully. Harry was many things, but he’d never dealt with his art before. He could be very private about certain things.

“Some sketches you inspired, and the painting,” Harry said, suddenly nervous, quieter. Louis’ eyes softened.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to love,” Louis gulped thickly as he realized the name slipped by him, his cheeks still burned slightly, “I believe you if you tell me you did it.”

“No, no,” Harry was quick to intervene, shaking his head, sketchbook hidden from Louis’ view still, “I just. It’s been a while. They aren’t meant for the collection or anything. These are just for me. The painting I’m thinking about adding it to the list, but it’ll be a while. I don’t know just—’’

“Harry,” Louis cut in gently, letting his hand rest on his knee. Harry visibly breathed in. “Whatever you show me, I promise I won’t be mean about it,” Louis said, amused, finding it extremely adorable how nervous he was. 

“Okay, okay,” Harry exhaled. He closed his eyes and peeled the sketchbook from his chest. His hands were shaking just so; it almost didn’t even seem like they were. But, Louis knew they were. 

Handing the opened page to Louis, he felt his heart stutter for less than a second. Louis let his eyes travel through the different drawings, which seemed made in pencil. 

They were… him. There were at least five different separated drawings on the wide page. The first looked almost like a picture, the attention to detail so careful and thoughtful Louis had to blink a few times while looking at it, so he didn’t imagine a stray line. They were Louis’s eyes through the visor in his helmet. 

The next one, right below, were the unmistakable black gloves Louis wore while driving, peeking from the cockpit of the car, holding on to his steering wheel. The leather had a small Ferrari logo in the center, and his red car was shaded slightly with a red pencil. Right next to it was an intricate drawing of Louis’s hands, no gloves. His 28 tattoo was visible since his hands were facing forward, holding on to his helmet. 

The last drawing at the very bottom was less detailed but still just as breathtaking. It was the general figure of Louis in his red racing suit, staring with a focused frown toward the track, looking on from pit box. Louis felt something shift in his chest. He hadn’t known Harry paid the level of attention displayed on the page before him. It was clear that in order to successfully create such delicate and defining pieces, Harry would’ve to be looking. Analyzing, thinking about the subject he was creating with his own style. 

Harry had constantly been trying to immortalize Louis for his first attempt at art. It made Louis’ heart sink and beat horribly faster, made his eyes slightly glossy, but not enough to be embarrassing. It shook Louis to his core— how incredibly touched he was by Harry’s creativeness. How affected he was by Harry himself.

He did things to Louis that couldn’t be explained so easily. He did things while Louis remained clueless, didn’t tell him until he was ready, and then got _shy_ like the drawings weren’t perfect.

“Do you like them?” Harry asked so quietly, so unsure, Louis wanted to shake him.

“Like them?” Louis asked, bewildered, “I love them, Harry. They’re one of the best things anyone has ever done for me. And, my mother gave me _life,_ so figure it out.”

Harry’s whole body seemed to instantly relax in relief, “Thank you, that’s…” He cleared his throat, the hands on his knees picking at the skin, “I thought you would think it’s weird I drew you so much,” He confessed.

Louis shook his head with a fond smile, “Never. It’s actually quite flattering,” Louis let his knee nudge with Harry’s, chasing his eyes. 

“Okay,” Harry let himself smile, slightly and then he leaned his head toward the bigger canvas, pointing to it, “That’s um, the one I’m thinking for the collection, do you want to see?”

Louis felt floored. “Of course,” He said, softer than intended, though he didn’t regret it.

“Okay,” Harry stood. He grabbed the canvas delicately, taking the cloth off, he had it turned toward himself, and he was looking at it, frowning. After another minute of silence, Louis turned to him.

“Do you like what you painted?” He asked gently, giving Harry space to decide what he would do.

Harry pursed his lips and moved his balance from one foot to the other, “I don’t hate it,” He offered.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you?” 

Silence. Then, “Maybe.”

After a few more seconds, Harry made a noise with his teeth and turned it toward Louis without saying anything else. Louis instantly felt the hairs raise in his arms. Shit.

It was clear it depicted [Harry](https://imgur.com/7aeoh7l). He was turned from view, just his back. His shoulder tattoos were peeking since he didn’t seem to have anything on. His hair was wet. He seemed to be kneeling, his hands by his face, covering it. He looked so vulnerable; that time, Louis let his eyes water freely.

“Oh, Harry,” Louis whispered. There was no sound. No noise. Just Harry with worried eyes looking at him. The painting showed a side of Harry; not even Louis got to see. It was him showing his naked back. Not showing much, but everything too. 

It was the first time Harry painted himself too. Louis had gone through his whole collection; it was a very discussed topic in his interviews. His hesitance to include himself as a work of art. 

“Do you—” Harry bit his lip, eyes shifting, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Louis replied immediately.

“Really?” He asked, hopefully.

Louis nodded and looked at the piece for a few minutes. It was enthralling. Harry placed it on an easel close by, then sat next to Louis, looking at the painting too. Louis could sit there for hours and find a new message and meaning. 

“What do you like about it?” Harry asked in a tiny murmur, so unsure.

Louis started when his voice broke the peaceful quiet, but then he turned back to the painting, “It reminds me of a quote from a book. Norwegian Wood— ‘What happens when people open their hearts?’ ‘They get better.’ — I think this is your heart, Haz. Your essence. What you’ve hidden from people. It’s an important side of you. Hell, it’s the most authentic thing. To be vulnerable, with ourselves, with friends, with family, it’s such a meaningful gift. It shows you trust them enough to be open with them. Anyone you trust with this is lucky enough to be a part of something special,” He paused and let Harry listen to his words, know he meant them. Then, “Thank you for thinking of me.”

Louis could’ve overthought every single word, but he found all he felt was peace. For once, his mind wasn’t running a million miles an hour trying to figure out every single detail in his interaction with Harry. It was simple enough.

[everything I wanted - billie eilish](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCTMq7xvdXU)

Harry sat as close as one could manage in such an immense couch. His eyes were full of words, a thousand things going through his mind just behind the ever-present green hiding behind it all.

“Louis,” Harry muttered delicately, his lashes trembling just so with the small movement, eyes gliding from his lips to his eyes. Louis could only blink, hold his breath every second that came from there. “Stop me if this isn’t what you want,” He whispered almost against Louis’s lips, his warm breathing cascading near Louis’ own mouth. It was addictive. Everything Harry did was addictive, impossible to run away from. 

Louis did not say anything. He thought that perhaps his voice was gone, replaced by the loud pulse of his heart making everything but Harry fall away. HarryandLouis.

Harry’s lips danced only hairs away from Louis’s own, still not touching, just edging across the border. Louis was tired of someone else making the call. Someone else jumping the leap of faith. For once, he was ready to throw caution to the wind. Let the world keep spinning while he decided for himself. It had been so long.

He leaned into Harry’s mouth, and let his lips finally collide with Harry’s, an exquisite mixture of every great feeling blooming fast within his chest. It was beautiful and terrifying. It was like free-falling with no parachute, no way of knowing what the future held, but knowing exactly what would happen. He could’ve stayed like that forever. An endless loop of Louis risking everything to make himself feel something for once, not favoring the past, the present, or the future. It was just him and Harry in a couch, no explanations required.

Harry made a sudden noise of surprise the second he felt the contact of the kiss, but immediately, as if his body acted by its own volition, everything in him relaxed and molded with Louis’s own. He let the tips of his fingers glide and brush against Louis’s cheeks. Feeling, memorizing, talking with no words. The minutes stretched into years, the seconds into decades. Everything good and bad happened in slow motion. This was the fine line between the two—the great unknown.

Louis was hyperaware of every part of his body. The place by his knee where it was connected with Harry’s own, his right hand on the prickly skin in Harry’s jaw, where he had a stubble growing in. His other hand was lightly playing with Harry’s wispy curls at the back of his neck. His heart could practically be heard within the quiet the room; the sounds of their mouths were the only thing holding them to the present. 

Harry was gentle, unlike the last time they were that close. A year ago, they’d been running away from something; their demons, their pasts, their addictions. Tonight, with no alcohol and no ulterior motives, there was only a bunch of nervous butterflies taking flight in their stomachs, a million possibilities, and outcomes. This time, Harry was taking his time, letting his lips move around Louis’s own, letting his breathing regulate to a soft stream of air, his hands caressing and moving to hold Louis close, like any minute he would fade away into nothing. Louis felt needed, liked, _loved._

Not yet. Love took time. It needed patience. Perhaps someday, maybe.

After a few more beats where their lips were still moving in sync, his mind managed a successful reconnection with the rest of his body, and then he remembered himself.

_Harry and he weren’t supposed to be kissing._

Harry’s soft lips against his were nothing short of wonderful bliss. If it only were simple.

“I’m sorry,” Louis suddenly said with Harry’s lips still attached to his. His eyes were begging to shut close and let himself get lost in the moment again, but his mind was much too loud to ignore. “I’m sorry,” He repeated, finally breaking free from Harry’s hold, where he was cupping his face so delicately.

Harry’s hands let go and dropped in his lap. He opened his eyes slowly, like instead of Louis just sitting there, there’d be bloody carnage, the end of a war in front of him. His stomach turned in sadness.

“I forgot myself there. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s my fault,” Louis murmured, the A/C suddenly kicking in. Harry’s eyes were downcast, looking at no particular spot on the carpeted floor of the hotel living room. 

It took him another moment, but he seemed to convince himself that it was real. That Louis was briefly stopping their first kiss. He looked wistful. Bittersweet. Happy and sad at the same time.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Harry said just as softly, not disrupting the quiet. 

“I’m sorry, Harry, I fucked up, I’m sorry,” Louis still apologized, feeling horrible with Harry’s big eyes staring at him, guilt-tripping him.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I did my share. It’s fine,” Harry said and even let a side of his lip quirk up. Louis’ chest felt just slightly lighter.

“I’ll go, yeah? Just…” He paused, “Just text if you don’t hate me.”

Harry shook his head, seeming, somewhat amused. A good sign.

Louis felt like shit. Then his phone pinged with a new text. He ignored it.

“Check that,” Harry requested, eyes filled with a sort of sadness that had some amused shine. Not completely bright but almost there.

Louis pursed his lips, ready to apologize again for leaving his phone’s ringer on. Then he noticed the text was from Harry, and he let out a breathy laugh. “Oh.”

**_I’m not mad, xx_ **

Louis opened the text and typed, _I’m still sorry._

Harry smiled, and a small chuckle escaped him, **_stop apologizing x_**

Louis wanted to keep apologizing but refrained. _Do you hate me?_

Harry took a second to answer, and for a brief moment, Louis’s mind filled with horror when he thought Harry was maybe thinking of a way to say he did. But his horror was immediately quieted by a reply from Harry.

**_I could never hate you, Lou. Someday you’ll believe me._ **

Louis struggled to come up with a good answer, so he sent, _Will you show me more of your art soon?_

An address popped into their conversation. It was Harry’s studio in Soho.

**_You’re welcome whenever you feel like popping in xxxx_ **

Louis smiled at his phone, body warm. _Thank you, I’ll go in every day then._

Harry chuckled at that, **_that’s perfect._**

_Your painting should be hung at the Louvre. What’s it called? It’s wonderful. x_

**_Thank you. it’s called ‘Guérison’ French for ‘healing.’_ **

_It’s perfect. You’re a wonderful artist, H. It’ll be an honor to see your work._

**_My pleasure. I’ll send you every napkin sketch if you want._ **

Louis looked up from his phone, and Harry did too. They smiled at each other, eyes crinkling with amusement. Louis looked down at his phone one last time and typed, _Bye Haz x_

Harry followed along and typed, **_bye darling, have a nice night xxxxxx_**

So, Louis pocketed his phone and laughed quietly, cheeks warm. Still, the volume in the room remained softly below a whisper. 

“Bye, Lou,” Harry said as Louis walked backward to the door. 

“Bye, Haz,” He replied.


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10! I'm so excited we've come this far. I also wanted to let anyone reading know that I'll be adhering to a once a week schedule. So I'll try to have chapters ready every Monday! This way, I'll have time to take my time writing and provide my best content. As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated. I send you all my love and good vibes. Enjoy!

Two days later, Harry kept texting Louis as if their kiss never happened. 

He sent over a text making sure Louis landed safely in London, and so he replied he was back on track, practicing for the next GP in Vietnam. Harry sent a picture of a marble block, carved only to the side, where a human shoulder was perfectly formed. It seemed like a man slowly coming from the stone. Louis was happy to point out how terrifying it looked. Harry laughed at him, explained it was nowhere near done. Louis would’ve been lying if he didn’t admit he was in a constant giggling fit just by staying on his phone talking to Harry.

Thank god he lived alone. The relentless teasing Liam or Niall would’ve made him endure, would’ve definitely led to one of them being kicked out of the flat. He felt 16 years old again. A rumble of nervous waves when he considered and reconsidered the words he wrote before he sent them. The anticipation of waiting for any sort of reaction. He’d forgotten how entertaining it all was.

All that aside, Tuesday morning at 10 A.M. had him switching his phone to his left cheek, his cheek overheated from the phone’s screen.

“You should’ve heard them cheering. It was madness, Lou. But really, when can you come down and visit?” 

Louis gulped down the bit of water he’d been drinking from the bottle. His running shoes were sort of digging into the back of his foot, but the gym wasn’t far away, so he wasn’t complaining. 

“It’s an eleven-day break so, let’s plan a lunch in Donny next week, yeah?” Louis offered, fixing a stray strand of hair the wind blew over his eyes. 

His mum cooed in joy, “Yes! That’s wonderful, darling. I’ll tell the girls and the twins,” She said. Then paused; Louis knew her well. She was itching to ask since he’d called ten minutes ago.

“M’kay, out with it, mum, I’m almost to the gym,” Louis said, amused, fiddling with his empty water bottle.

“What’s all that I’ve seen around Twitter? About you and that artist, Harry, is it?” She asked, and although she sounded unsure, Louis was perfectly aware that she knew exactly who Harry was, if not from him then from all the years he’s been known in England.

Still, his stomach turned, his mind running fast through their kiss, their breaths mixed together, the hand in his cheek. He sighed and physically shook the memories away.

Louis chuckled, the wind moving the same strand of air, “It’s Harry Styles, yes mum. He’s Gemma’s younger brother, and we met a year ago at a party. We’ve just become friends at the start of the season, actually.”

Louis didn’t know how true it was that they started as friends from the beginning. At first, Louis was sure he’d been yearning for the day he’d see Harry’s parting day from the tour. He found it wasn’t the case anymore. Still, he was sure it was somewhere under all the fond, and all the fluff he’d acquired from getting to know Harry as he truly was. If he needed it, he’d find it. The kiss was just a minor hiccup.

“Hmm, just friends?”

Louis rolled his eyes and laughed briefly, “Yes, mother, just friends. Y’know I’m not really looking for anything.” 

He did not include ‘at the moment’ because he wasn’t sure if he’d ever start looking again. His mum understood that as well as he did. But, she was also keen on his healing, moving on, having grandchildren eventually.

“Whatever you say, I’ll believe. Though I must tell you, these fans are quite enthusiastic in you two. Not implying anything, just commenting,” She said like she was to no fault. Louis knew she wasn’t, but at the same time, she probably was. Harry was also the perfect guy to bring home to his mum. Charming, funny, extroverted, and incredibly cheeky. Jay Deakin might just keep him in her pocket. 

“Thanks, mum, I’ll make sure to keep up on the socials then. But, for now, I have to leave ya. My workout’s starting in two minutes, and Wes’s always annoyed when I come in late.”

Jay made a noise of realization and urged him to hang up. “Love you, boobear, see you next week. Bye.”

Louis smiled when the call disconnected. He’d always be a mama’s boy. Being the eldest and the one who saw his mum through her best and worst, he’d always felt a strong connection with her. She also read him like a book. Not even Lottie could do that, with her witchy abilities and all that. 

Reaching the private gym, Louis rang the buzzer once. Immediately the receptionist called, “ _Hiya Lou, come up!”_ He smiled, recognizing Eleanor’s chipper voice. 

The black gates clanged loud and then swung open, letting Louis through. 

Inside the main lobby, soft music came from the ceiling. The gym was just to the side, a glass wall dividing the lobby. Mechanics and technicians from Ferrari were gathered by the weights, some in the treadmills. The walls were a crimson red with the Ferrari logo in the main wall behind Eleanor, who was smiling at him with delight. 

“Lou! It’s been a while,” Eleanor cheered into his shoulder once he rounded the reception to give her a proper hug. Louis pulled back to smile at her, still wearing her usual cream pencil skirt and stylish white blouse. Always the fashion icon. 

“You too love, how’s everything been?” He asked politely, letting his hip rest slightly on her desk.

“It’s been grand. I got Stello to let me join you guys in Vietnam, so I’m excited to finally leave here,” She announced with a full grin. 

“El, that’s fantastic,” Louis replied, grinning too.

Eleanor Calder was Samuel’s assistant. She was normally somewhere near Samuel at events, from fundraisers, fancy dinners, and nightclub parties. She managed his schedule, his calls, his emails, and about anything else. She’d worked for him five years already.

Louis remembered the first time he’d seen Eleanor in the Ferrari headquarters. There’d been countless assistants that Stello had sent running away from him. He was clinical, cold, and demanding. He was a harsh employer, and most hadn’t lasted more than a month under his contract. Until Eleanor swiped in, never made a mistake, and earned Samuel’s respect.

She had an odd way of doing everything right. If she ever did make a mistake, she was quick enough to fix it before it became a problem. She could write perfectly worded emails in less than two minutes, and she had every phone number and name memorized by heart. If Samuel ever forgot someone who introduced themselves, Eleanor was the woman for the job. 

She’d simply arrived one morning, introduced herself, her degrees (Public relations and international business), then proceeded to list all the things she was capable of doing for Stello if he hired her. He’d been sold from the beginning. A month turned to five months and a year to five more. It helped that she was still the sweetest human while working for the devil himself.

“Congratulations are in order for you as well! Bahrain, after two years, mate, you did it!” She exclaimed. Louis’s eyes crinkled in a smile. He nodded, the tips of his ears warmer.

“Thank you, it was terrifying, but it’s done, yeah,” He didn’t let the magnitude of the words reflect in his voice. Terrifying did not cover the half of it.

“Well, Wes said he’s waiting in his office. I’d go now if I were you, don’t keep him waiting.”

“Of course, if I don’t catch you later, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis said, stepping out from behind the counter. 

Eleanor nodded with a smile and saw him go to the offices at the back. Wesley was definitely ready with a speech about time management. 

+

“Higher Tommo, bring the knees up.”

Louis breathed raggedly, his bare chest soaked, and his temples drenched in sweat. “I’ll have a heart attack, Wesley. Let’s stop.”

Wes only shook his head and kept monitoring his burpees. Louis was about to see double. He knelt low on the ground, did a solid push up then got his knees to his chest, and let his body jump as high as he could manage, before going back to the floor for the next push up. It was safe to say his muscles were screaming in agony. His knee was no fan of his either.

“Come on, two more and we’re done, push through it,” Wes was looking at his timer and at Louis. They’d been going through the last of his workout for the last twenty minutes; his heart was almost beating out of his chest. 

“Fuck,” Louis cursed as he forced his body to work through the pain, making sure he was doing everything perfectly. A lazy person works twice as hard. Wes loved living by that motto. If he ever half-assed an exercise, Wesley would make him do it again, until he did every single one perfectly. The devil.

“And… done, done. Rest up,” Wesley said, right when his timer beeped. 

Louis let his body crash to the floor, his lungs struggling to catch a proper breath. 

He laid there with his eyes closed for as long as he could. At least two minutes passed before Wesley was back and ordering him to stand back up. He handed him a bottle of water once he did.

“If you don’t stretch, you’ll sprain something. You need a cool down with proper muscle exercise.”

“I know that, but I really don’t want to do it.”

“Fingers to the tips of the toes,” Wesley guided, doing it himself. He was perfectly flexible too.

“Why me,” Louis lamented while he let his back arch until his nose was by his knees. His legs burned with the stretch. 

“Keep asking, and I’ll go on an hour-long rant,” Wesley said as he slowly came back from his stretch. Louis followed suit.

In response, Louis only grunted as he went back down again, doing that three more times.

“So, anything interesting happened since Bahrain with Harry?” Wesley asked innocently. 

Louis stood back up from his last stretch and gave him a deadpanned look. Of course, Wesley saw Twitter too. Had anyone not been on that goddamn app?

“No, we’re not together, fans apparently wish we were, but it’s not the case,” Louis said as he transitioned to a different stretch. His thighs burned. Wes made a noncommittal sound. 

“Mate, look at the pictures. You can’t blame people for assuming,” Wes said, sitting on a weight bench to keep stretching himself.

“I’m trying not to. I know if I go on there I’ll just freak out and make a mess. It’s better if I just stay away, honestly.”

Wesley shrugged. He stood up and grabbed two towels, tossing one to Louis with a water bottle. “Whatever’s best for you.”

“It is,” Louis insisted, opening the bottle. He found it serendipitous that the water made him unable to talk, so he started drinking it incredibly slow, hoping that Wesley would forget about the topic and move on.

It seemed to work when Wesley walked to the back of the gym to stuff some things from their workout away. The music was blaring loud, and Louis was eager to step into the private bathrooms and take a long hot shower, clear his mind, and ease the tension growing in his head. 

Right at that moment, as if the universe smiled for his misery, Stello came into the building and zeroed in on Louis, sweaty, tired, irritated, and very reluctant to talk to the CEO. 

He barely managed to fix his face into anything that didn’t look like a scowl, almost failing with the way Stello had a nasty curve in his lip. He was unhappy. Great.

“Tomlinson,” He called loudly into the gym, his voice carrying well over the music. His hands were by his hips, and he was looking on as a captain aboard his ship. Except, it wasn’t a ship, and if it had been there’d been mutiny long ago. “Meet me in my office.”

“Yes sir,” Louis called back, wiping his face from sweat. Wesley was quick to step into his glass office, shutting the door and making himself look busy by the shelves next to his desk. Smart.

The chill from the lobby was making its way into the room, and his warm body shivered at the temperature. He hoped Stello would talk fast. Louis turned and grabbed his discarded shirt from the ground, slinging it through his head and getting dressed quickly, eager to take a shower as soon as Stello finished their talk.

Inside Stello’s office, the lighting was only coming from the windows behind the man. He sat at his black leather chair, in front of his massive dark desk, the windows behind him showed a perfectly kept garden. It did not look warm nor welcoming; it seemed too clinically perfect to look alive. If he hadn’t been out there before, he’d guessed every flower and plant were plastic. Louis almost shivered, but muscle memory helped him suppress it. Always some good in the bad. Leonard hated his feelings, his wincing, and whenever he used to coil back. So, he learned to control it. To deadpan his emotions.

Stello’s wrinkled, stony eyes did not get to him because when he’d been younger, they had. They used to scare him silent; they used to make him bow his head and listen without answering; they used to make him weary. Once upon a time, he’d been terrified of Samuel Stello, but with time, he’d learned a few things from abuse. There’s always good in the bad. 

“Please, take a seat.”

Louis bowed his head silently and stepped further inside, the chill in the room even lower than the one outside. Eerie. 

The chairs in front of the desk were just as elegant and old as everything else in the room. The small metal table to the side held only the most refined alcohol known to man. Everything smelled slightly dusty but not like a grandmother’s home. Rather like an abandoned place that had been stuck there, paused in time. It wasn’t comforting.

Stello watched as Louis sat, and once he’d done enough of a dramatic pause, he began, “First, I must extend my congratulations on the Bahrain win. I hope we can keep ourselves within that rank for the rest of the season.”

By ‘within that rank’, Stello meant winning. Non-stop. As if they were machines incapable of error. Louis nodded.

“I also wanted to say that— there’s been things circulating around the air. Headlines between yourself and Harry Styles. Now, I don’t have to remind you of the threat that Gemma Styles poses for the future of our podiums—”

Of course, he acknowledged Gemma’s capabilities then when he’d actually paid attention to Louis’s warnings that she was not just another random driver in Formula 1. That she wasn’t some girl.

“—so I imagine I also don’t have to remind you of the image it shows to the public when people see you fraternizing with our biggest threat’s brother. It paints us in a bad light, it’s not helpful, and it honestly is not necessary.”

Louis felt his stomach drop. Stello was implying that he wouldn’t have permission to speak to Harry in any way that would seem like they tolerated each other. He was implying they were to separate, cut off all communication, stop talking, or being friends. Louis almost chuckled at the notion. 

Sure, Louis was somewhat scared of the media and their power and influence to twist pictures and words, but nothing truly made him scared enough to simply stop talking to Harry. He didn’t believe it was possible anymore.

“I spoke with your agent, and she agreed to go ahead with whatever you decided. She said she could make all the rumors and headlines look like nonsense. Nothing a good social media post couldn’t fix. Although, it is, of course, up to you.”

_Do as I say, I am not giving you any options,_ was what he meant. 

Louis felt a scowl bloom in his lip in his brow. It was easy to mimic Stello’s own face when it stared back at him with such disdain and blatant dislike. It made Louis want to share a piece of his mind.

“The truth is, Ferrari’s name cannot be hurt by what the driver’s do with it. Your name is very heavily associated with the brand, and for that reason, I am saying this, nothing else is to be implied here.” _The fact that you’re gay, and might also be in a_ gay _relationship sickens me to my very core._

Louis adjusted his position on the seat and attempted not to clear his throat; he bit his tongue forcefully. 

_“_ I hope you can take my words into consideration, and think about the consequence that Harry Styles might have on the overall reputation of our company. It is merely a suggestion that will do you good in the long run.”

He nodded tightly, teeth grinding, “I understand what you’re saying, Sam,” Louis responded evenly. No emotion. Any feelings he revealed could be used against him. Stello could use it on the board of directors to fire him, state he was ‘emotionally unstable’ to drive, then have him replaced in a heartbeat.

Louis had to play his cards right. At least for the moment.

“Good, good, I’m glad. This is all in your best interest, and you have to understand in Ferrari’s as well.”

“Right,” Louis said, slight bite that he could not ward off for the life of him.

“Hmm,” Stello continued, a low hum that rumbled from his chest, and then left an unpleasant echo in the walls. “I believe that was all I needed to say. Also, I hope to see you and Payne up in those podiums for Vietnam, bring home some more titles.”

Louis let his smile seem as forced as possible once he stood up. He extended his hand, but only because his mother had never raised anything but gentlemen and ladies. Stello looked at his hand for second before he extended his own, shook it, and immediately let go. 

+

An hour later, Louis was showered; his muscles were pleasantly sore. His mind was a jumble of deep thoughts, but he did not let Samuel’s chat get to him. It had not been the first time he’d gone on such rants. When Louis and Leonard and first started dating, Stello’s eye had twitched for the better part of the year whenever they held hands in front of him. Now, he’d learned to tune the old man’s voice from his mind. He had enough to deal with as it was.

Once he’d dried off, he got dressed into a pair of brand new skinny jeans and a white graphic tee. He made sure to bid Eleanor and Wesley goodbye before he set down the block to Fran’s office.

It was a short walk, and Louis was feeling refreshed, so it felt like a few steps from the headquarters to the next building, white and elegant. The front door at the top of the black stone stairs had a golden plaque. At the top, it read:

_Focus Management Agency_

_Chief of Staff, Frances Morgan_

Louis smiled privately at the plaque. The first time Fran came to him with the idea to start an agency, there’d been nothing but a beat down building, a few desks on a room and lots of space to start a business. Fran and Louis met while she’d still been in uni, busting her back through ten hours of homework and essays, always attending every single class, and somehow getting the best scores. 

She’d always had big goals, a million ideas on how to start her career. Then, she met Louis, and her vision for the future was set. They continued to be good friends, and once she was properly established, Louis immediately entrusted her as a manager and agent. 

Focus Management rose from nothing, and Fran made sure to see it grow into something successful. Now her company represented, and managed, many famous motorsport racers, including Tinn Adulet and Chevalier. 

“Come up,” Fran called from the speaker, already sounding done with Louis. He chuckled.

The interior wasn’t too different from any other building in London. Narrow interior, long toward the back. Wooden flooring and a set of squeaky stairs that led to the second floor where Fran had her office. The bottom floor was for other associates at the agency who worked alongside Fran. Louis knew some of them, though he didn’t usually come into his agent’s office that often. Usually, she was out there with him, trying to clear out any fires he put up.

To be fair, there weren’t that many.

“Tommo, pleasure as always,” Fran said drily from her office chair, twirling a Montblanc pen in between her fingers. Louis snorted and sat down swiftly in front of her desk. He couldn’t wait to be done with offices for the rest of the year. There was a reason he was driving F1 cars. He couldn’t stand desks. 

“Is it that bad?” Louis asked, trying to make the slow-growing anxiety recede in his throat. 

Fran quirked an eyebrow, “Depends.”

“On what?”

She cleared her throat, stood up, fixed her red blazer, and gestured to the side of the room, where there was a table ready with two cups of steaming tea.

Louis pursed his lips and nodded, watched Fran silently pour his drink, and then prepare it as he liked it. She took her time.

“Is Harry Styles a friend or a lover?” She asked once she’d sat back down. 

Louis almost choked when a bit of tea fell from his mouth. He breathed a few times before he stared at Frances incredulously, “We’re just friends!” Louis exclaimed, safe from suffocating on his tea. 

Fran snorted loud like Louis had just told her the funniest joke she’d ever heard. She covered her mouth and closed her eyes, elbow leaning on the armchair of her leather chair, much like Stello earlier, but without all the evil and disdain. 

“Okay, y’ know what? I don’t care. I just really need to know what side you’ll take. If it’s really ‘just friends,’ you’re about to make my life very complicated,” She air-quoted ‘friends’ as if it wasn’t true that Harry and he weren’t romantically involved.

“What is happening?” Louis whispered to nothing, in particular, looking around her office like a hidden camera would pop up and scream, ‘Got ya!.’ Fat chance, but he still hoped. “Why is everyone so obsessed with Harry and me? You’re the fifth person to comment on it. Is this because of Twitter?” Louis’s brow grew more and more wrinkled with every question.

Fran scoffed and sat up in her chair, turning the monitor from her laptop. At first, there was only her screensaver, which was his SF1000. It warmed his heart. Then, she pulled her notes, where there were a few links saved from Twitter. Louis braced himself.

“It started slow, not many people picked it up,” Fran narrated while she began scrolling through tweets from the start of the season, perhaps less than twenty from March. No pictures yet. Most tweets were either fans of Harry’s or Louis’s. 

_does anyone else think Louis Tomlinson and Harry would look cute together???_

_rivals to lovers would literally be such an iconic thing for harry and lou_

_Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, being friends is something I didn’t know I needed, but now I’m OBSESSED._

“Then,” Fran continued, pulling another open tab in her browser, where simple tweets turned into paragraphs, people posting pictures of the two of them. The number’s tripled. There were at least 300 by the end of March. “Things escalated, pictures leaked, fans began to pay attention.”

A picture of Harry and Louis laughing, Harry was looking tenderly at Louis’ profile, both of them sitting on a lunch table in Spain, at the circuit. Louis remembered they were sitting with Niall and Liam that day, not just the two of them. But, either way, they looked like a couple. The caption read: 

_I will literally frame this to my wall omg_

Another picture of them in pit-box, Louis smiling with crinkles in his eyes, he had his red racing suit, wide-open smile. Harry was next to him, doubled over laughing about something. He was wearing flared jeans and a simple black shirt. He couldn’t remember him and Harry laughing that much, but he’d also been wrong about a lot of things it seems.

_the warmth my heart is experiencing!!!!!_

There were pictures of them talking close together, some of Harry flirting it seemed, a few of Louis looking enraptured at him. It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

“A few pictures turned into…” Fran clicked on the next tab, and Louis couldn’t hold his gasp. _100,000 tweets._ The people multiplied, the tweets came in faster, “…that.”

“Why?” Was all Louis could ask.

“Someone went deeper, looked into all your interactions, analyzed everything there was on you two, then created a pretty detailed argument on why you two were a couple,” She explained, summoning yet another tab. It was a single tweet with a picture of Harry and Louis smiling at each other in the fair in Spain.

‘ _[THREAD] Proof Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are dating’_

“Here, scroll through it,” Fran said, placing her laptop closer to him. Louis’s tight chest only got tighter, dread washing over him. 

“Is it that bad?” Louis repeated quietly, not touching the computer yet. Fran shrugged.

“I don’t know. Is it bad that you’re linked to Harry Styles? I don’t think so. Did you guys do anything wrong for either of your images? No, again. Does he have problematic past actions that could potentially harm you? I can’t know for sure, but so far, nothing’s come up. If something did, though, you know I could handle it,” Fran said it surely, and Louis knew she was. 

She’d been the one to cover everything about Leonard, after all. She’d buried the court trial from the papers, bought the two pictures of Louis with a black eye, and got rid of the leaked text messages from Leonard, which were later used as evidence in court to extend his sentence.

Two years ago, Louis felt like he’d been living in constant hell. Trying to lock up the person he loved the most, watching Leonard glare at him with death in his eyes while the judge ruled his prison time. He never needed to relive it. So he forced himself to forget.

“I trust you, Fran,” Louis said honestly. If a small sip of warmth slipped past him, Frances did not comment on it. She wasn’t a very emotional person, which helped with her work, and made Niall think it was hilarious how blunt she was.

So, he willed his hand to scroll past the first part of the thread.

A video, Harry and Louis were chatting as close as they could in the Ferrari garage. They were looking at each other; the video only showed their profiles. Harry was periodically looking at Louis’s lips, which he hadn’t noticed until now. His green eyes were switching between Louis’s eyes and his mouth. He bit his lip while Louis kept talking animatedly about something. He could faintly recall he’d been explaining something about Liam’s lap time, how he’d almost broken the record that day. Harry had clearly been busy paying attention to his face rather than what he was saying. The butterflies in his stomach were fine, not at all causing mayhem inside him.

Louis did not say anything as he scrolled to the next part. A video with pumping music from the party in Spain. It showed a vertical video of Louis sending away the three pricks who’d made fun of Harry’s suit. The caption explained: ‘ _This video was taken at a party in Spain in late March. It’s clear we can see Louis says something to the three guys at the table, which makes them leave immediately. I managed to reach out to one of them. In conclusion, he defended Harry bc those three asses were being rude to him. Boyfriend goals idgaf.’_

Louis felt his ears warm at the thought of everyone he knew seeing the thread. It was, after all, the first thing that came up when either of their names was looked up on Twitter. He hoped nobody too close to him was aware it existed, though he was helplessly hoping.

He kept scrolling. 

The same evening. A grainy picture of Harry in his sparkling suit, holding Louis close, big hands around his waist, wrapping to the small of his back. Harry’s face was leaning on Louis’s shoulder, and in turn, Louis was resting his face on Harry’s chest. It seemed intimate, private, _very romantic._

Louis took a breath in. He had to keep reminding himself it wasn’t the end of the world. Fran herself said it wasn’t even bad, just something that was happening. If he panicked, it meant everything was true.

He was not in any way or form, panicking.

A grainy picture again. It was from their not-date in Australia. They were walking down the pier, Harry in his pink outfit, their backs to the camera, Harry smiling while talking about something and Louis staring straight ahead, the outline of his back the only thing visible. 

He could’ve gotten away with that one— explaining it was someone else, but the next picture showed Louis and Harry through a gap in the door that separated them from the rest of the restaurant that night. Someone had managed to take a picture right before the door swung closed behind their waiter. There wasn’t much; Harry was looking at Louis, then just a touch of Louis’ profile, enough to assume Louis was also the one at the pier.

More tweets showed Harry and Louis at the fair. He hadn’t known anyone recognized them that day but telling from the quality of the shots; it had been a pap who took the photos. They were extremely good at hiding in plain sight, humongous camera, and all.

There were the ones from the Merry-go-round, Harry smiling at Louis, looking back at him with a beaming smile, eyes bright and hair tossed every which way by the wind. Louis winning Harry the bear then hugging him. A closeup shot of them holding the baby pink bear with one hand, the stuffed toy dangling between them. They were smiling at each other. 

The hardest evidence the thread claimed to have, was the video of only two days before. The camera on Louis and Harry at the takeoff area of the Bahrain Circuit. It was dubbed over by chatter from the commentators, but over it, Harry’s lips could be read, and a subtitle text was placed underneath. The fans were under the impression Harry had said, “Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend,” seriously. Like he was happy, they were together. Louis laughed.

He began soft, just a small chuckle that made Fran tilt her head sideways, like a confused puppy. He leaned back into his chair, and his laugh grew, his chuckles turning gradually into a maniacal laugh. His stomach hurt. He just kept laughing, hands covering his mouth.

“Now, what the fuck is happening?” Fran asked, bewildered, still perfectly sat in her chair, cellphone between her manicured fingers. 

Louis let himself laugh for as long as he could, then gradually, the laughter died down. Once he was quiet again, he said, “I’m going to kill him.”

Fran sat there, perplexed. “What?”

“I’m going to kill Harry Fran; I will. I’ll kill him.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” She asked as if he would actually commit murder and have her fix it for him.

“Because I _told_ him people would assume. I warned him, and now look where we are,” A pause then, “Y’know what,” He stood up suddenly, chair skidding behind him, “I’m going there, I don’t care anymore.”

Fran fish-mouthed for a reply while Louis stomped to the door of her office. He turned quickly, “I’ll call you later.”

Before she could muster a reply, Louis was out the door, fast-walking down the street with a decisive and impulsive feeling deep in his gut. Find Harry, demand he fix it. It was all his fault. 

Louis had the address for Harry’s studio pulled up in his phone, which, according to Google maps, was less than two minutes on foot. That gave him enough time to come up with a nice speech. 

He would say how careless he was. How dare he look at Louis that way and expect people to overlook it? One thing every fanbase loved: the gossip. Especially dating gossip. He would give him a day to fix it, nay two hours, to set it all straight. He would not be part of any dating rumor or front-page article. 

He didn’t even try to cover his face, which made people walking down the streets of Soho turn their heads. Only a few pointed and others openly stared, but Louis was too distracted imagining all the ways he’d enter the studio, a determined curve in his brow, eyes set, unreadable. 

There were so many ways he could start talking. How dare you? Why me? Did you always plan to make my life a living hell, or did that just happen spontaneously? 

Turning a corner, he headed down two buildings before the art studio came up, sticking out like a sore thumb in between the boring old offices surrounding it. A pair of tourists were outside, pointing at the architecture, which Louis had to admit was divine. 

He actually stopped to take in the structure of Harry’s very artsy studio. It looked just as annoying as he was. The front was white, low, and unlike any structure within a hundred-mile radius. England loved to pride itself on its very typical and olden layout. 

Harry said, fuck all that. 

_‘HS Studios,’_ was neatly written on top of a gigantic titanium door. Big glass windows let people see inside, a few paintings displayed at the front. Louis breathed slower, attempting to mask the exhaustion from angrily sprinting for two blocks while intensely plotting revenge. 

Once a minute had gone by, a sudden bout of newfound courage made Louis’s feet surge forward, leading him straight for the intimidating entrance. The internal monologue was going a thousand miles a second, spewing all his thoughts and feelings, losing his inhibition. 

Get in, ask for Harry, lend him a piece of his mind, leave. Simple.

“Hello Mr. Tomlinson, are you here for Harry?” Suddenly came a voice from somewhere in front of him. Louis’s eyes instantly snapped to the source. He found a young girl, no more than 20, sitting at a sleek, glass desk. She was wearing big round glasses and had black hair with bangs. She smiled at him politely. Louis took a second to realize she’d said his name. Also, she knew why he was there. But also, duh.

“Sorry?” Louis managed, very distracted by everything coming at him too fast. 

The studio seemed even more modern on the inside. White walls enveloped everything. A long chandelier came down from the ceiling, pointing perfectly to the center of the room. Black and white square tiles made up most of the floor. Some paintings Louis had already seen, were hung up beside the girl in the desk. One was an eye, the iris showing a distorted world in its reflection, another was a very realistic black and white painting of a woman facing away from view, naked. Louis breathed deep. Chest caving and pulling back again. _How very overwhelming._

“Harry, let us know you’d be by at any moment. I’m wondering if that’s why you’re here,” The girl explained again, politely still. Louis forced his focus to unglue from the different sculptures. A few abstract squares, a man kneeling on the floor— begging. Louis breathed again. 

“I-uh- I am, here. To see Harry, that is,” Louis stuttered. _Be cool._ He scolded himself.

“Perfect, so if you go down this hallway, then turn left, there will be a clear door with the words’ Studio’ on it. He said he’d be there, so just go in,” She indicated gently, pointing with a pencil she had tucked behind her ear.

Louis managed to nod, flustered. He didn’t waste a second and began to walk down the white hallway. It almost seemed like something from Ex-Machina. Louis sighed, remembering his resolve and his motive, the reason he’d stalked two bloody blocks. Harry would pay. Yes, he would.

Like the girl said, once Louis took a sharp left turn down the corridor, ahead was the minimalistic view of a Studio door. It was made of frosted glass, which made it impossible to peek to the other side. The clearers thing were blobs of color, though Louis couldn’t decipher what was behind the door. Music was playing very loud from the speakers inside. 

[Roma Fade - Andrew Bird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlKKdBR_ZWw)

It was upbeat, fun. Louis felt like he could’ve actually enjoyed it if a thousand fires of rage hadn’t been burning deep in his gut. His purpose did not waver.

In five long strides, Louis faced the frosted glass door with a weary feeling in his gut. His purpose _did not_ waver. He was ready. 

Another valiant move and the door was pushed open. Louis moved fast. He barely had time to analyze the room. Paintings. A thousand canvases everywhere. Giant marble stone in the middle of it all. Big, tall windows that led to a back garden that did not look plastic. It looked alive, fresh, delicate. It looked like what it felt to have Harry Styles near. Green, bright, almost necessary.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice called through the beating of the song, almost like a pumping heart shaking the floor. Louis couldn’t see him. But, he found comfort in the pulses. He imagined it synced his heart to a slower tremor than the one he could feel, concentrated in the tips of his fingers, the large vein of his neck, his chest. His beating heart seemed to be surrounding his whole body. He breathed again. Where was that purpose? He swore it’d been there a second before. 

His steps were frozen in the middle of the art studio. 

“I—” His voice cracked just so, not enough to be noticeable. His clothes felt tighter somehow. Suffocating. Was the room getting smaller? 

_Harry’s arms were never to constricting. They gave him safety. Space._

He thought, for a brief second, that he was going insane. Harry’s _hand around him more than a year ago. Both their eyes so close, their breathing patterns syncing together whenever they let their mouths slide and move against each other. Harry’s wonderfully big hands over his arms, his shoulders, his cheeks._ Absolutely daze-inducing.

His brain seemed to have found a life of its own, and it was bombarding Louis with facts he’d not yet been ready to face— or so he’d thought. 

“Lou, is that you?” Called Harry again, and Louis didn’t let his crumbling sanity do anything. He let his eyes scan around the art-filled room, for some sign of that wonderful mop of curls. How infuriating. How angry they made him. All of him.

_Why was he calling his name? How did he know he was there?_

He finally spotted him, standing by at the far back of the giant square room. It seemed almost like a completely separate space from the rest of the building—a warehouse type of scenery. Harry was just there, a dirty paint rag in one hand, a paintbrush in the other. His perfect, large hands were wrapped loosely around the objects. No rings. He seemed to take them off when he painted. Louis’s whole body felt a dangerously potent magnetism to the painter’s very existence. It was horrifying.

Harry’s giant green eyes blinked at him, and a smear of black paint was by his cheek. It seemed to hold such a contrast against his milky-white skin. It was almost like watching a Rembrandt portrait with a tear, a cherub with a dirty spot. Odd. 

His hair was held back by a white bandana and a bit of stubble, enough to be visible— handsome. Thick, dark eyelashes, delicate wrists. Muscular, long legs. A white paint-stained shirt, a pair of black joggers, and no shoes. Why on earth did he not have shoes on?

“Lou!” Harry exclaimed once he spotted Louis, just standing there. “What’s wrong?” He asked, confused at Louis’ lack of words. His eyes were still bright, but they showed a hint of growing concern. Always so careful. He slowly lowered the paintbrush and rag onto the table behind him. He turned back to Louis immediately, walking slowly to him. The music still carried on, like the rest of the world. It seemed only Louis had paused everything, for just a few seconds.

“I—” Louis repeated dumbly, and he could understand why Harry seemed so worried. It was definitely a peculiar way of behaving. 

Of course, his immediate next decision was to stalk forward and kiss Harry. 


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With quarantine, social distancing, and a whole new time beginning, I don't always have the chapters ready in time. Bear with me if I'm ever late. Trust me. I understand how annoying it can be to read WIP that isn't properly updated every certain amount of time. Know I'm working hard on the next chapter, writing slower maybe, but always writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you and your family are safe—lots of love, as always.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said immediately. He forced his body and mouth away from Harry. His hands were pulling back immediately as if they’d burned the boy.

Harry’s closed eyes opened, and instead of letting Louis go, he made sure to keep ahold of his waist. His hands were soft and tangible around his back. Louis could tell Harry was clutching on to his shirt for dear life, fingers closed into fists around the material.

Louis’s inner monologue was quiet. His chest did not feel constricted anymore. He did not doubt himself. There was only Harry’s immediate warmth radiating toward Louis’ exposed arms. Harry’s hands were instantly holding his face, long fingers wrapped around his cheeks, lashes fluttering closed. Louis felt his lips come in contact with his again.

Louis let his mouth dance and move around Harry’s own, the oxygen mixing between them, the air getting lighter, gravity leaving.

Harry moved one hand back to rub the pad of his fingers against Louis’s neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the changing rhythm of their kiss. Louis, for his part, was just content releasing all his worries, giving himself what he’d yearned for the second Harry re-appeared in the Ferrari garage in Barcelona. He was tired of running away, of ignoring his heart in favor of listening to his mind. In favor of staying safe, from heartbreak, from the pain of caring for someone, so much, everything else felt like a breeze. He only wanted something for himself. He wanted to feel again.

_Oh, the dangers of love, how harmonious, and terrifying. But it wasn’t love yet. It couldn’t be._

Harry’s hands moved fervently, his fingers caressing Louis’s cheeks, Louis gasped for air, his head dizzy with relief. 

Slowly, Harry began to soften the urgency of his movements. He stopped moving altogether and let his mouth freeze in time. “Are you going to regret this?” He whispered against Louis’s lips. His mouth trembled.

Louis took a second. He retracted his head back. Harry was openly looking at him with concern, with that unsure shade in his eyes, the pressure of his fingers, like a force begging him to say what he wanted to hear. “I need to know because you weren’t ready. I need to know what changed,” he said, teetering on desperate.

Louis’s stomach tightened with guilt, with sorrow. He never wanted to see Harry in pain, in doubt, sad; it was too much to bear. He scrambled for the right words for the right thing to say to make Harry see that something _was_ different. Because it was, he just struggled to say it.

But, Harry assumed his silence to be enough of an answer, because the unsure shade turned into a disappointed and hurt look, his eyes straying to the floor, his head falling too. He slowly retreated from the closeness, his hands pulling away from Louis’ neck and face, fingers lingering just enough— he let go with reluctance. 

Louis felt the breath knocked off him, gaping mouth breathing shallow breaths. He watched with increasing panic as Harry began to step further away from him. He needed to say something before it was too late. He couldn’t leave Harry, thinking Louis was not dying to touch him whenever they were close enough, behind closed doors or in crowded rooms. Louis wanted everything with him. His heart stuttered in fear, but the simple image of Harry physically present before him quieted everything down.

Harry was almost by the door when Louis’s voice came back like a violent wave, “I’m tired, Harry,” He confessed loudly. He almost winced at the volume.

Harry stopped in his step, his body facing away from him. His shoulders were drooping, and Louis almost whimpered at how _sad_ he looked. He slowly turned to look at him, and while he did, Louis swallowed braced himself again.

Harry’s eyes bore into him, wide and honest, like every time before. “I’m not ready to say everything yet, but,” Harry’s whole being proved a big distraction, so Louis looked away, found it easier to confess his feelings to a faceless painting propped against a wall at the back of the room. “I was hurt. I was hurt very deeply more than a year ago. I- um,” Louis hadn’t talked about Leonard since the trial. Sure, Liam, his mum, they mentioned him softly, quickly. Never let the subject linger, because a therapist mentioned PTSD and how he collected that from the after-effects of constant abuse for a whole year. They were careful. Louis didn’t know how to say everything while protecting himself. But he had to give something to Harry.

“I wish I could tell you everything. I wish, every day, that I wasn’t as fucked up as I am, but the truth is—’’ Louis’s throat struggled to remain unbothered by the mess of feelings welling up inside him, “The truth is that I’m a mess. Okay? I’ve got… _things_ that I need to deal with, and I— I haven’t completely gotten there yet. I’m just tired. I need to _feel_ again. Like I used to before—’’ He bit his tongue so roughly, his teeth almost drew blood, “Before I was like this. Trust me, H. I want to tell you so many things. I want to open up, but,” Louis gestured to his general self, his heart feeling broken though there was no one aiming for it, “This is what you get, at least for now.”

He refused to cry, given the simple fact that there was nothing to be sad about. What he’d said was the most honest truth, he already knew it. He wasn’t discovering chunks of himself. He also did not wish Harry to think any of what he’d said was supposed to be pitied. He was a victim, but he was not dead. He’d simply been with the wrong person for a while. But he survived, and that was the right thing to take from Leonard’s time with him. It made him stronger, so he didn’t cry.

Harry remained silent. Louis dared take a look at him. His eyes were unreadable; his mouth was set in a thin line. His lips were still rosy and full, and his curls still fought against the cloth in his hair. His eyelashes caught in a ray of sunshine coming from the skylight above them; they cast thin shadows across his cheekbone and made his handsome jawline look even sharper. Louis closed his eyes to capture the moment.

Whatever Harry said, at least there was then: where he was just a quiet memory. He wasn’t talking; he wasn’t angry, sad, mad, or disappointed. He was just standing there, not doing anything like a serene sculpture. Louis sighed. 

_If only some memories could be kept in a jar._

Sudden movement made Louis blink away the thoughts. Harry was approaching him. His eyes still a misty fog, no way to see further than the vibrant green. He was simply walking to him, his bare feet making no sound against the floor. Louis prepared himself for the million outcomes. For the thousand ways that he could walk out of the studio.

_How had a day turned into a century so fast?_

Harry finally reached him. Stood in his previous spot so close to him, the tips of their noses could almost touch. Then, his eyes drooped, like Wall-E when he remembered Eve. His eyes were misty, his nose flaring— as if he were keeping back tears. But his lips curved into a soft smile. His lashes were dangerously damp.

Louis only blinked up to keep his focus on Harry’s face. Their height difference was always more apparent when they were closer together. He found it didn’t bother him as it had a year ago. 

He realized his heart was beating boldly against his ribs, the flow of blood in his ears making his hearing seem to submerge underwater. He breathed in when he forgot to do it for too long. He used to do that with Leonard when he was stressed. It made him so angry when he failed to breathe when he would gasp too suddenly. It would startle him. 

Harry, on the other hand, seemed fascinated. Then, “I want anything you can give me, whenever you feel it’s right,” He answered. His hands interlocked with Louis’s own, their fingers and palms fitting perfectly, which Louis would’ve said was disgustingly cheesy any other day. Except he didn’t feel like it. For once, the voice in his head did not comment on anything.

“I want any version of you. It’s okay to have bad days and good days, Lou. No-fault in that. The truth is,” Harry seemed to still himself with slight courage, he pursed his lips and made noise with his teeth. “The truth is, I haven’t been able to keep you off my mind since that night. I haven’t seen or done anything with anyone else. It never felt right. I might sound insane, but that’s how I feel. So, I want you to know I’ll stick around, even when you want me as far away as possible. I’ll take anything, just so I can hold you, just like this,” He proceeded to pull Louis’ body closer to himself. His fingers dug into Louis’s sides. 

Louis smiled wetly and figured the tears were nothing but relief. His chest felt lighter once Harry let himself be enveloped in another kiss. It was more daring. Harry got comfortable around Louis’s mouth, and all at once, let his tongue glide against Louis’s. He let their mouths stay connected while their hands ravished each other’s bodies. It was mind-numbingly pleasant.

Louis couldn’t contain the moan that escaped him when another song suddenly started playing. He let an eye break open to realize Harry had resumed his music, perhaps in hopes nobody outside could hear them. Harry’s own rumbling came up his throat, the vibration reaching Louis’s lips, prompting Louis to do the same. It was too good for words. They just stood and kissed each other senseless. It was like finally reaching full circle. 

Perhaps two minutes of total bliss passed, where Louis was content in Harry’s arms, his lips entwined with the painter’s own. The music continued playing until a faint ring lowered the sound down. Harry started and made a sound of displeasure. He slowly pulled back from their kiss, and Louis followed suit.

“It’s Emma. She probably needs something,” Harry mumbled to Louis’s nose. Louis snorted.

“Go get it then.”

Harry grumbled and loosened his hold on Louis again, turning to the door of the studio. Louis took his time to walk around the place, to analyze the art, the sculptures, the odd trinkets, and palettes lying in every square surface. The canvas propped against the walls differed from tiny squares to massive pieces that took most of the space up. There were hands in different colors, incredibly realistic eyes, fuzzy portraits of different people, a scenery of about ten men draped over each other, seeming to imitate a Caravaggio painting. They were everywhere.

Louis found he could squeeze between two metals shelves, and reached an isolated area of the studio, where the music sounded further away, and Harry’s voice, speaking to whoever Emma was, faded into a faint whisper. The insulated silence almost made Louis’s ears pop. Sculptures were everywhere there.

It seemed to be a storage corner, where mostly half-finished marble busts sat on different shelves. There were scraped paintings that were half done, some old brushes sitting gathering dust on a table. As Louis ventured further into the space, he could see smaller figures carved from wood, some in all fours, stretching a hand forward, as if begging to be saved. Louis averted his eyes, felt like he was invading into Harry’s more personal creations. 

Harry called for him, and once he didn’t hear him respond, his footsteps sounded closer, his own frame squeezing through the shelves to reach him, covered over the top by a piece of plastic. The light barely seeped in through different cracks in the shelves and ceiling.

His green eyes weren’t easily visible with the dimmed light, but Louis could make out the general outline of his face, a hint of his brow, relaxed and calm. He didn’t seem bothered that Louis had found the small storage room.

“These are the rejects,” Harry said into the space. He let a hand glide over a marble head, only half the face done. “I was too um—” He stopped, looked at Louis, analyzing if he’d be uncomfortable by his words, Louis bowed his head, let him know it was fine, whatever he had to say. “I was too high, too weak to work the power tools. I had to stop using oil paintings after a while, too; the smell made me too dizzy to sit there for more than an hour. Side-effects of cocaine. Especially through such extended periods of time. I painted only with acrylics for the better part of a year.”

“That must’ve been hard,” Louis replied, not letting his eyes stray from Harry’s own. Showing him, he could handle the honest truth. He could handle hard subjects, confessions that weighed on the stomach because he could. Harry could trust him with his own traumas too.

“It was,” Was all he responded, turning to a set of carved hands with no body.

Louis was distracted by a particular painting. A person with a melted off face, a collage of flames coming from the head. It was as if the person was made of wax. The background was all black except by certain wisps of smoke surrounding them. It was placed separately on a table to the side. It was different from the rest since it seemed perfectly finished. In fact, it seemed ready to be displayed as a collection piece.

“What’s this one’s story?” Louis whispered, pointing to the painting.

Harry turned to him at the question, looking over his shoulder at the canvas. He made a noise of recognition. Approached it to look closer at it.

“I painted it a few months before I went into rehab. I was trying to find a way to show people what it felt like to withdraw. I tried to sober myself up, and it wasn’t pretty. I’d read some stuff about what not to do, but in the long run, it was like stepping into hell willingly. I couldn’t do it after a while. I just wanted to remember that time in a painting, so I did that.”

Louis looked closer at the details and was surprised by how realistic it seemed. Almost like staring at a picture. He shivered. 

“You should let people see it. Maybe not tell them what it means,” He suggested off-handedly, letting his eyes move away from the painting to another one covered in a fine layer of dust. He knew Harry was listening. He imagined Harry would consider it if Louis played it like it wasn’t a big deal. Except the painting was gorgeous. He would have a proper fit if Harry didn’t exhibit it.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, distracted by his work. He was staring at the painting as if he were traveling through the memory of making it. “I’m not sure any of my art will be worth much anymore,” He said embarrassed. Like the fact he’d gotten sober because he’d been an addict was humiliating.

Louis’s chest twinged painfully. He turned to him, walked closer, and looked up at the man. Harry sighed, looking away. “Hey,” Louis whispered, letting a hand go up to Harry’s cheek. He let it stay there until Harry slowly leaned into his touch, closed his eyes, and breathed hard. “Don’t talk that way. Your work is brilliant. I can see why everyone loves them. There’s so much meaning in these, so many stories to tell— ways to interpret it.”

Harry pushed his face harder into Louis’s hand, and a single tear wet his eyelashes. Louis’s stomach dropped instantly. His nose turned rosy pink; his lips quivered just slightly. Louis made a soft noise in the back of his throat, a small, sad hum. 

Louis pulled Harry into his arms, let Harry hug him tighter. It was similar to the way they held each other in Spain, except this time, there was no hesitation. Louis wasn’t scared of their bodies intertwined. The skin touching on the tip of their fingers. He wasn’t scared to brush his lips against Harry’s. There’d been worlds of difference between then and now. 

“Do you know how amazing you are, Harry?” Louis asked into Harry’s hair, Harry’s shoulders shaking just so. A few tears soaked through Louis’s shirt. They seemed to cry a lot. _Perhaps_ _their demons played well together. “_ You do everything perfectly. Anything you do, you outdo yourself, you work harder than anyone else I know. You _care._ Nowadays, that’s rare. I wish you would see yourself the way I see you.” 

Harry sniffed and untucked his face from Louis’s shoulder, “Likewise,” He returned, his voice soft.

Louis chuckled and let Harry stay close up against him, for as long as he needed. 

A while after, they squeezed out from the small space and returned to the very well-lit studio. The music was still humming in the background though Louis couldn’t recognize it. Harry walked ahead and opened the studio door, peeking his head outside. He came back in.

“There’s about ten reporters outside. Cameras, mics, and a few stray tourists. Emma closed the gate when she saw them gather,” He said to Louis, who’d been looking at the skylight, smiling at the odd ray of sun that almost never came through England.

Louis sighed, surprised he wasn’t more worried about the situation. “Let’s sit then, wait for them to get tired,” He offered, giving Harry’s worried expression a small smile. Harry’s shoulders relaxed, and Louis stretched a hand to him. Harry smiled wide and took it. He led Louis out of the studio and down the hallway. Down the left through another hallway until they reached a door with a big metal bar handle. Harry looked back at Louis, and before opening it, reached over and pecked his lips. Louis’s chest filled with pure sappy butterflies. 

“I come here when I don’t know what to paint,” Harry said as he pushed the heavier door open. It was the garden from before, even more, beautiful up close. Flowers of all colors and types were growing in small bushes along a stone walkway. There were a few tables with patio umbrellas, chairs in every table. To the side, strewn across with fairy lights, there were bean bag chairs under a small roofed area. It all looked very, _Harry._

_“_ I can see why inspiration would strike here. It’s wonderful,” Louis complimented, pulling Harry along then, walking around and looking at the sculptures placed in different parts on the grass. Small pedestals with golden plaques spelled the names of each one, along with the dates they were finished. 

“These I did when I was mostly sober. I actually felt they were too personal to put them show in a show,” Harry explained, approaching a stone sculpture of a woman looking on with a mournful expression. She seemed perfectly real, aside from the gaping whole coming from her chest. Even a tear track was visible on the surface of her cheek, which made Louis stare in total awe. He also felt coiling sadness at the expression she bore to him. 

“Why is she sad?” Louis asked quietly, a bird chirping nearby, a soft gust of wind ruffling his fringe.

“Because she was a victim of domestic abuse. She was part of a collection from three years ago.”

“Oh,” Louis struggled to say it without keeping the tightness of his throat in check. It was fine. Harry didn’t know. He was just chatting.

“Yeah, her name’s Eva, I met her then and interviewed her for this. She was a unique case. She was still in the relationship when we spoke, then left him about three months later. She said afterward that leaving him was the best thing for her, but also the worst. She’d felt empty. So, I blew a hole in her chest, per her request. She said it was exactly how she felt then. She’s better. Her daughter is six now.”

“I’m glad,” Louis commented softly, looking back at Eva, at the hand by her chest. He felt a deep-rooted feeling of familiarity in her pose, in her facial expression, in the way she seemed hopeless. He moved away toward the roofed part of the garden. He was not keen on opening a second can of worms on the same day. 

“Should we talk?” Harry asked.

“Sure,” Louis agreed, letting his body sink into the seat, his head resting back, at ease already.

“What made you come today?”  
  
“Fran and I spoke before I came here. She showed me that Twitter thread of us going around, I guess it made things click,” Louis replied, letting his arms go behind his head. It was incredibly sunny for England.

“Huh,” Harry made a noise and sat back in his own bean bag. He seemed deep in thought.

Louis re-thought his answer. “You.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s my best answer— You. You made me come here today. Stello went on about us not being seen together, that it was bad rep for the team. I was so angry. I thought I was angry at you, but then, I saw you, and I realized I was angry at myself for letting everything happen. For not giving this a chance. I just started walking.”

Harry nodded, looked brightly at Louis, happy. He seemed more content with his answer then. Louis smiled back.

“I’m glad you’re giving whatever we are a chance,” Harry chuckled.

“Let’s call it ‘people who will one day maybe be together in a romantic way, but not yet,’” Louis laughed back, his chest vibrating. 

“I can get used to that name. It’s very romantic, innit?” 

Louis kicked at his shin, and nothing was so bad anymore.

+

Two hours later, they were sat under the shade, watching the sun roll through the sky. Emma brought out orange juice and sandwiches, left music on then disappeared back inside. 

They made the time seem to fly by. Harry shared his first memory, painting anything. 

“I was five, I believe. I drew a cat and named him Hercules. My mum has him framed in the living room. It’s quite cheesy.”

“She sounds wonderful— your mum,” Louis commented, eyes closed sipping on his drink.

“She really is. Believed in me when nobody else would. I was a dreadful painter until she enrolled me in some local art workshops. I couldn’t have been more than eleven then. After that, the teacher saw potential and encouraged me to put what I felt on the canvas. I created my first original a day later.”

“What was it?”

Harry laughed, “It was awful. A fish playing an electric guitar, for some reason. I thought it was very edgy then, I was convinced I’d actually created something revolutionary.”

Louis laughed along; the sun rays seeping into his skin. “I have to see it then. I’m too curious now.”

Then his phone pinged with a text from Ben. 

_Practice in 30 min, don’t be late!_

Louis read the text and felt his face crease into a groan. How was he ever going to make it with the reporters outside?

“Something wrong?” Harry asked, looking at Louis with a small frown. The light was hitting his green eyes straight on, which made them look wonderfully bright and colorful. 

Louis sighed, “I have to go practice. Ben’s very strict with time management. He won’t let me off easy if I get there a minute late.”

Harry stood and knelt back down next to Louis’s ben bag. He let the butterflies in his chest migrate to his stomach.

“It was wonderful that you came today. I was having a “yellow” day, actually,” He air-quoted.

Louis’s mind started at the mention. _Yellow is a minor craving— a passing thought that keeps coming back once in a while._ His body coiled with anxious thoughts. Had Harry been close to relapsing? Did he almost do it?

“Don’t think too much into it. I have them at least twice a week. They’re not as bad as they sound,” Harry rubbed Louis’s arm, which distracted him from his increasing worry.

“Twice a week? Why didn’t you say anything?” Louis asked aghast. How many times had he spent the day with Harry, completely oblivious he was struggling? Had he ever been the cause? Was he some sort of trigger?

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Harry answered, adorably soft, his voice tiny and shy. Louis wanted to whimper in adoration. “It’s not like that. I have an addiction. After rehab, it didn’t just go away— it stayed with me to this day. Green days are actually scarce. Days were I realize I’ve spent a whole day not thinking about the cravings, the impulse to look for that high again. They’re my best days.”

Louis took his time to think— the impending practice session logged at the back of his mind. “Can I ever do anything to help?” He asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, seemingly caught by surprise. “I mean,” He rubbed the back of his neck self-depreciatingly. “Patience, I guess? Somedays, I might be cranky, hard to get, or just quiet. I don’t do it on purpose, but my body’s too busy warding off the pull I used to have. I was ten times worse in the beginning, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, I could barely talk to mum and Gem’s when I was in. Nothing pretty.”

Louis sat straighter, “Have I been around in a bad day?”

Harry faltered seemed to weight answering or remaining quiet.It also meant it was a yes. 

“I have,” Louis assumed.

“Yes,” Harry replied reluctantly, “It was that day we went down to have dinner with everyone in Spain. Mind you. It’d only been a mildly bad day up until that point. When we sat down, and the topic of DUI’s came up, I sunk too far to distract myself. I left the table to call my sponsor,” He smiled privately, like his mind was showing him a good memory, “Then you came in, acted all nonchalant. You’re a very bad liar, Lou.”

Louis’s ears went red, and he flushed in embarrassment, “I am not,” He reproached.

“You are so,” Harry countered, but his face was placid, his eyes droopy and bright. Louis felt like kissing him. So he did. Leaned in quickly and gave him a soft kiss, nothing steamy, but gentle enough to show he cared. The butterflies multiplied by a thousand, making him almost dizzy. 

It took him a minute after the kiss to remind himself of where they’d been before. “Who’s your sponsor? Uh- if you don’t mind me knowing, that is.”

Harry shook his head, “Not at all. His name’s Adam, Adam Rod. He’s been sober for ten years. He’s thirty. He’s patient, and he takes my calls whenever I’ve needed him. Adam helped me through a lot in the past year. He’s talked me off the edge. He encouraged me to join Gemma on the tour. He’s great.”

“I hope I can meet him too then, make it a party,” Louis chuckled, staring straight on at Harry’s piercing stare, laser-focused on Louis and nothing else. It was quite intimidating, yet still very hot.

“Me too,” Harry murmured, then leaned into another kiss. It lasted a minute longer, and Louis sighed into it, the immediate feeling of warmth spreading through his fingertips, through his toes, and pooling fast in his abdomen.

They broke away, and Louis let his hand play with the curls in Harry’s neck. Perhaps his favorite place when he kissed him. It seemed awfully intimate and secure.

“I can’t believe we get to casually kiss now,” Harry whispered, cross-eyed staring at Louis’s lips. His one hand was gently resting in Louis’s cheek, cupping it adoringly. His index finger was drawing tiny circles in the skin. 

“Me either. I get to kiss handsome Harry Styles whenever he lets me,” Louis replied, his phone vibrating with an incoming call. He ignored it in favor of watching Harry smile an amused smile. 

“‘Handsome Harry Styles,’ oh my. What I would have given to hear you say that a year ago.”

“Hmm, I know.”

Louis’s phone stopped vibrating until it briefly began again a second later.

“You’ll have to leave for practice at some point. Can’t hide here forever, love,” Harry reminded him.

Louis rolled his eyes, “Maybe, but I really don’t want to go.”

“Oh, none of that. I won’t be the reason Louis Tomlinson suddenly stops driving like a maniac. No, thank you,” Harry retracted his hand from Louis’s cheek, efficiently snapping him off the Harry-induced trance he’d been in.

Louis sat up and stood slowly from the bean bag, checking his phone to three missed calls from Ben. “Shit, I do have to go. Niall and Ben will not be happy. I’m late.”

“Go, I’ll text you later,” Harry said, then stood as well and gave Louis one last chaste kiss. “The reporters are probably gone by now, Emma said she’d come back and tell me if it got worse.”

Louis checked he was leaving nothing behind before he walked from under the tiny roof and turned to Harry again, “‘kay, see you, yeah?”

Harry took a second to look at Louis, which only made the blush speed up his neck. “Yeah.”


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protests, school work, humans defending their rights, I almost didn't have time to finish writing this chapter. I don't live in the US, so I can't join the protests all over the country, but I wish I were there. From where I am, though, I've found the time to donate, sign, and call local offices to demand justice for Big Floyd. As it is, something has to change; the system cannot continue to fail minorities or continue to turn a blind eye whenever a cop gets brave enough to become violent with a black person. It's the most devastating experience to watch as cops continue to spread evil and vile horror, terrorizing American citizens with no regard for morals or ethics. It makes me sick.
> 
> Here's a link to everything you can do from home to help the BLM movement advance toward a bigger audience. Advance toward justice: 
> 
> https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/
> 
> Take the time to click that link, explore the options, see what you can do. If you can't donate, then do everything else, but help humans gain their rights back. Give them strength, give them your loyal support. Stand with humanity, stand with kindness, stand with the good people. If we all come together, a difference WILL come.
> 
> That's all. Enjoy the chapter. I love you all, stay safe!

For the rest of the week, neither Louis nor Harry saw each other again. Harry jetted off with Gemma to Germany; They were planning some last-minute meetings and dinners with representatives from their team. Louis had no choice but to watch him step into a private jet through FaceTime, Harry being kind enough to hide Louis from Gemma’s view. He wasn’t ready for anyone else to know about them. Whatever ‘them’ meant. 

Twitter had not been any duller. It had, in fact, tripled with fans, all of them eager to find out if Harry and Louis were actually dating. They were terrifyingly good at overanalyzing things; not even Louis had caught the first time. Eventually, Fran changed his Twitter password, and Parent Locked his phone from downloading Twitter. The fight lasted two days, but Fran did not budge.

She also had every right to be losing her mind. The one thing she was meant to handle in Louis’s life was his public image, and as it was turning out, she was quickly losing all control over the ‘Larry Situation’ as they’d began calling it. Every reporter, newspaper, and magazine editor wanted a scoop into Harry and Louis’s relationship, which Louis had strictly forbidden her from sharing with anyone. She only knew in case it all blew up. More than it already had, that was. 

A week after kissing Harry, Louis had found himself in Donny, his mum beaming up at him with a bright smile. The youngest twins were jumping excitedly as he slowly made his way through the house. The eldest twins were sitting on the couch when he reached the living room. They both immediately stood up and squeezed him tightly, showering him in congratulations for the Bahrain race.

“I know how hard it must’ve been my love,” Jay sympathized sadly, placing a hot cup of tea in the coffee table for him. She sat down in the giant sofa with both sets of twins as Louis made his way through the house, checking the kitchen and looking at all the pictures in the fridge. Some pictures of him, Fizzy, and Lottie, the girls with no front teeth, smiling wide. Louis, as a baby with Jay— a teenage girl. All of them under Louis’s tall Christmas tree from last year, courtesy of Fizzy and Lottie who’d set it all up. Louis smiled at them, and swiftly returned to the living room, took a seat on the love seat opposite the sofa.

“It got really bad, but I pulled through. I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to make it.”

Jay shook her head, watched Louis sip his tea carefully, “I knew you could. Worst things have come your way,” If her eyes got misty, Louis did not notice. “Anyway, I’ve seen you got a good support system on your side,” Her eyebrows raised so high, and she winked so aggressively, Louis wondered if she was aware of how bad she did the whole thing.

“Mhm, how about I dish out to you later, and you never try to wink covertly again, yeah?” Louis laughed.

Jay scoffed in offense, “You cheek,” She laughed too. 

  
+

By the time Louis had been properly caught up, both his sisters were ready for bed, the twins were asleep in their room, and Jay had since made a second cup of tea for both of them. She’d sat attentive to Louis’s story as he retold the Harry tale to her, from a year ago till then. He excluded the parts where Harry was drunk, talked about his addiction, or anything else that was not his to tell. 

“When are you bringing him over then?” 

“Mum!” Louis covered his face with the throw blanket.

“It’s an honest question! Don’t be embarrassed,” She laughed.

“It’s all too new to be discussing meeting our parents,” Louis looked at the window in favor of avoiding Jay’s knowing look. Also, his cheeks were burning.

“Fine, I won’t go there. But, I’ll say I’m glad to see you like this,” She confessed, sipping her tea. Her gaze never wavered from him because she raised Louis, so she knew him better than anyone else. 

“Like what?” Louis let his eyes tentatively glide over to her. 

“Like you’re better. It’s okay to be out there again— you deserve to be happy, my love.”

Louis nodded briefly. He refused to continue shedding any more tears. There had been enough of that already. “Hmm, right, but don’t get too excited; we’re not official. Don’t know if we’ll ever be.”

“That’s alright. As long as you’re happy, excited, nervous, I don’t worry. I’m just proud you were brave enough to put yourself in those situations with Harry. I applaud him, too, for being so kind. Keep him close, yeah?” She leaned closer to Louis on the couch, pecked his forehead and hugged him close. Louis breathed in her familiar perfume.

“Thanks, mum,” He mumbled into her shoulder.

“You know I’m always here for you, darling. For the gossip and the ugly crying.”

Louis snorted, and they continued to laugh for the rest of the night. Through everything bad, there was always Jay to cheer Louis up in any situation.

+

The Hanoi Street Circuit in Vietnam was new. Its official debut was happening on Sunday, though through qualifications and practices, the track itself would be settled with rubber way before the green light went off on the weekend. 

Louis could feel his stomach tighten with nerves and excitement as he eyed the most massive straight ever on both sides of the track. The longest straight before Vietnam was in Azerbaijan, which meant that the track itself was like nothing any of the racers had ever seen before. It certainly leveled the ground for newcomers and professional drivers. The pressure was on. The straight took over almost an entire kilometer. Although they did drive fast, distance was something only a few cars could do well on the floor. Louis was lucky to be driving a Ferrari at that particular moment. If anything else, Ferrari cars were always the fastest to beat.

Mercedes-Benz had sleek, well-developed cars that had firm grips on the ground. They were hard to crash, and they were even harder to overtake, but the one thing Ferrari always held over their competition was the speed of their machines. Nothing beat them. Get a skilled driver, and Mercedes fell behind. 

That’s when Louis and Liam came into play. They only had three days to settle their muscle memory. They’d driven it tirelessly back in London through simulators, but nothing could prepare them for the actual track like sitting on the SF1000 could. Their goal was to acclimatize the machines and their reflexes to the hardest turns, the ones that came right after the straight and the ones that came right before. Grip was key, and essentially, where Mercedes would shine. Their job was to foresee Antonio and Gemma’s moves. 

A straight was also interesting for the people watching. It was fair game for any car to overtake, and it would be a bloody fucking show to put all the cars in soft tires and send them on their way to first place. The beginning of the race was definitely where they had to be the most careful. Crashes could definitely ensue, especially from the rookies at the back. 

Louis breathed and rubbed the tip of his thumb across his chin, deep in thought as he watched the track, again and again. Learning the layout from every angle couldn’t hurt him. 

Eventually, the silence from the watchtower made Louis’s thoughts drift from the layout, his mind suddenly bringing forth fleeting images of Harry’s eyes, full attention on him. His wide, goofy smile, his big hands, his soft fingers. Louis closed his eyes, let his lashes flutter with the memories.

If he ever felt stressed, he’d noticed how eagerly his mind would leap to Harry’s general presence in there. It was almost comical like he was leading in some sort of romantic comedy along with the painter. Louis felt his lips quirk, but he sobered when he imagined the bartender at the back of the room was watching him be a lunatic all by himself, looking out the window for the better part of twenty minutes already. 

He stepped back from the view and immediately felt his phone ring with new messages. His heart sped just slightly as he guessed it was Harry texting him— which was something he did now. He texted Louis when they weren’t together. He’d even gotten a quick, grainy tour of Louis’s childhood home through FaceTime after his mum had gone to bed. A feat on its own. 

Harry was great at the whole concept of texting. He loved saying good morning to Louis (granted it’d only been a week), he sent over selfies of his outfits in Germany, a few pictures of Gemma and him enjoying hot dogs with colorful sunglasses, some of Harry puffy-eyed in the morning enjoying breakfast in his hotel room. Louis loved them all, so he made sure to tell Harry that he could never stop sending them over. 

In return, Harry asked the same; he apparently liked to stare at pictures of Louis from his very neglected Instagram, and he loved the one and only selfie Louis dared to send over a few days ago. 

He decided to fuck it all and snapped a quick selfie by the window of the tower again, feeling like Harry deserved some content after everything he’d shared through the week. Louis was not wearing anything fancy— his custom Ferrari racer t-shirt, hair tucked under his red cap, and a pair of aviator sunglasses, his only acceptable pair, according to Lottie. Apparently, his sports glasses were not approved by society in any way. 

He checked his texts and found one from Ben summoning him down to the track, ready for two hours of practice. He rolled his shoulders, and his body autonomously prepared itself to be crammed in the hot cabin. The second text was from Harry.

_Hi Lou, gem’s meetings just finished, she’s on a plane to Vietnam now. I’ll be there Sunday around noon, can’t make it any sooner :( the studio needs me there for some interviews and conferences. Promise to cheer extra loud when you’re racing. Don’t be nervous, yeah? You’re amazing!!!_

Louis lowered his phone and tried not to let the small pit of disappointment well in his chest. He knew Harry wouldn’t always be there, but he’d not seen him since their first ‘real’ kiss in the studio, and there was so much Louis could take before he started missing Harry. 

Still, he understood nothing could be done and texted a brief ‘don’t _worry, it’s fine, see you on Sunday xx’_

He locked his phone for good and pressed the elevator button to go down. He imagined the two hours of practice would help him be distracted for a while.

+

Nerves hadn’t struck Louis since his first Grand Prix eight years ago. Back then, he’d almost retired from the race, his head deep in a toilet, and his hands were shaking from fear. The red racing suit had been new, fitted perfectly to his boyish frame, and he’d been terrified of wearing it. It’d seemed too bright, called too much attention to him. Ferrari was after all one of the two most famous teams in F1. He was supposed to drive for them. How had he ever thought he could do it? How did he fool everyone?  


Eventually, Niall managed to coax him out of the bathroom stall. He’d said something along the lines of ‘ _Get yer feckin’ arse up from that grimy floor and go to the fecking car. I didn’t sleep three months for you to back out today, yeh twat.’_

Now, he was nervous again, and he couldn’t tell why. There could be hundreds of different possibilities. The track was brand new, someone could crash, or Louis could crash, Stello was actually present to watch the race, and Louis managed to end in second place at qualifications. Liam was first and Gemma third. He breathed, looked around his dressing room. Not big, but not small. It was brand new as the rest of the circuit, and it smelled new too. There wasn’t much aside from a desk with a bottle of water, his gloves, a pair of sunglasses, and his cellphone. Wesley’s warmup equipment was set to the side— he’d already warmed up, and the race was less than half an hour away. 

Also, Harry wouldn’t arrive an hour into the race. Louis told himself it was hilarious to think the painter’s presence actually made him calm down before a race. Completely false. He was entirely capable of relaxing. Then a knock came from the door, and he jumped a meter in the air. 

“Lou?”

Louis whipped his head to the door in a second and stalked in two big steps to open it. Effectively, standing on the other side was Harry, looking winded. His curls were messily swept over each other, and he was wearing loose khaki pants that went almost up to his neck, a white shirt tucked into them—from his collaboration with Gucci— a pearl necklace, and a flannel jacket thrown over it all which made him look like an old man. Louis almost cried in relief. Fuck it. He needed Harry close to not be nervous, bloody sue him.

“You’re here,” Louis said breathlessly, opening the door wider to let him come in. 

Harry obliged and stepped into the small dressing room. He closed the door behind himself. Louis stood still for less than a second before Harry proceeded to snog the fuck out of Louis. He was not complaining.

“Missed you so much,” Harry mumbled into his mouth, his lips fervently moving with Louis’s, their tongues meeting in the middle, both of them gasping wantonly at each other. Louis worried about how quickly the energy shifted between them, how easy they fell into a spell. Then it faded when Harry’s teeth bit softly on his lower lip like he could hear Louis thinking too much.

“Missed you too,” Louis replied once he realized he hadn’t said anything in response. He was busy trying to keep it together in his pants while Harry was firmly latched on to his mouth.

Their bodies were intertwined together in the blink of an eye, Harry’s leg pressing up in between Louis’s, almost grinding together, very similar to the way they danced at the party from a year ago. 

“How are you here?” Louis asked faintly, reluctantly unlatching himself from Harry’s face. Harry protested from the back of his throat when he realized Louis was wearing a nylon turtleneck, his hands pulling at the fabric to litter kisses to his neck. It was quite distracting.

“Took an early flight— left Emma to finish up for me,” He mumbled briefly into his skin, his lips nibbling at every certain point, almost by his collarbone. Louis suppressed a moan when Harry sucked what would be a hickey into the side of his neck.

“Thank you, I was actually really nervous,” Louis said breathlessly when Harry came back up, his lips kiss at his jaw. Swirling pleasure bloomed in his belly. 

Harry took a second to pull his head back from Louis’s neck, looking at him with blown eyes and red lips, “How long do we have until they call you?” 

“Uh— ten minutes, give or take,” Louis said, struggling to concentrate on anything other than Harry’s perfect mouth. His eyes were glossy and greener than ever. 

“Can I suck you off, please?” Harry asked fast, his hands cupping Louis’s cheeks.

Louis’s eyes widened, but Harry looked eager like he really seemed excited to do that for Louis. “Uh— ye-yes,” He managed, blinking continuously.

“Wonderful,” Harry replied and dove his mouth back in with Louis’s. Their breaths got shallower once Harry’s ringed fingers reached the button at the top of his red racing suit. Swiftly, he managed to unbutton it, then pull the long zipper down to the end, and roll it off Louis’s shoulders in three quick moves. In a second, his hand was palming Louis through his briefs. 

Louis took in a sharp breath as his mouth faltered in their kiss, the pleasure pulsing all the way up to his mouth, eliciting a soft groan from the back of his throat. Harry took that opportunity to pull from Louis’s mouth and kneeled carefully on the ground, going to work, pulling his cock from his underpants. His cold fingers made Louis find everything in him, not to moan as loud as he could. 

With Harry’s thin, long fingers around him, Louis breathed out a quiet breath. Harry looked up at him as he let his hand pump him a few times, making Louis hiss, “If you do that much longer, it’ll just be a handjob.”

Harry had the audacity to snort at him, but nevertheless complied and let his mouth wrap around Louis’s length, ever so carefully, his lashes blinking prettily up at him. Trust Harry to tease when they had less than ten minutes to pull themselves together.

Louis could only wrap his hands around Harry’s curls and pray to God; he didn’t let a moan escape him. It’d been too long. A year exactly, since someone had touched him like that.

Harry expertly moved his tongue, let his cheeks hollow as he sucked, then looked up at him with shiny eyes. Louis almost came then, like he’d never gotten head before. He moaned softly, and let his fingers brush all the hair back to see his perfect face, his prominent cheekbones, his infinite lashes. It was a sight for sore eyes.

He was sucking, licking, and moaning shamelessly. One hand was wrapped around Louis while the other squeezed his ass roughly. Louis whimpered in satisfaction. “H-Harry,” He said, squeezing his eyes shut as he was bombarded by each wave of intense pleasure. “I’m gonna c-come.”

Harry moaned in his mouth, which sent pleasant vibrations to his cock, which in turn made Louis’s mouth drop open in ecstasy. “F-fuck.”

“Mhmm,” Harry confirmed as he made a strange swiveling motion with his tongue, which made the heat in Louis’s belly explode, and immediately sent him straight over the edge, right in Harry’s mouth.

“Ughh,” Louis mewled softly, watching Harry swallow every last drop before he popped his mouth off his dick. He looked stupidly hot. 

Louis took a second to ride out his high, every muscle in his body lose, his eyes closed as he felt Harry adjust himself in his kneeling position. 

“Mmm, that was incredible,” Harry rasped, tucking Louis back into his briefs, and zipping up his racing suit again. He stood back up, and while looking into the racer’s droopy eyes, buttoned up the neck of his top. “ _You_ are incredible.”

“I should be telling you that, Jesus,” Louis whispered, then let his head lean into Harry’s until their foreheads were touching, and they looked cross-eyed at each other. Louis breathed a few times deeply, trying to figure out a way to walk out into the hundreds of cameras waiting for him, without a single one suspecting he’d just been sucked off in his dressing room. He came up blank, if only because his mind could not be bothered to overthink anything, filled to the brim with dopamine. 

“Are you feeling better?” Harry asked gently, and only Harry could be so incredibly adorable after behaving so dirty a second before. It was almost like whiplash, but good.

“I’m feeling great, actually. It’s been a year since I’d done anything,” He confessed to Harry’s mouth, so close when the tips of their noses were touching.

“Oh,” Harry said in lieu of realization, “So- So you mean that I was the last person you were with? A year ago?” Harry asked quietly like it was too good to be true.

Louis felt his cheeks warm because it was definitely up there in the list of sad things to tell a romantic interest. In any case, he nodded, “You were, yeah.”

Harry seemed momentarily distracted as he let his hand go softly to Louis’s cheek, caressing his skin tenderly, his eyes full of care, “How so?”

“Nobody else was brave enough, I guess,” Louis teased.

Harry rolled his eyes with a chuckle, “Of course, yeah,” He smiled, and finally, let their lips collide again, this time gentler, softer. They weren’t in a hurry then, just kissing for the sake of it. To feel closer, in a private pocket of time, before the crowds came in. _HarryandLouis_.

A knock finally pulled them apart. A man called for Louis to be at the pit box in two minutes. He looked at Harry, where they were a hand’s distance from each other. 

“Louis I—” Harry began, but a second knock stopped him.

_“Lou, get your ass to the box, Stello wants all of us walking the starting line together,”_ Liam whispered through the door. 

Louis smiled apologetically at Harry before he called, “Okay, I’ll be out in a minute!”

Liam did not say anything else, and his footsteps faded quickly.

Louis turned to the painter again and raised his eyebrows in question, “You were saying?”

Harry smiled with close lips but happy eyes, and shook his head gently, “I’ll tell you after the race. No rush.”

As much as the burning curiosity bubbled in Louis, there wasn’t any more time to chat; He had last-minute warmups to attend, a few pictures to take, and a lot of Stello to digest. “Okay, but don’t forget to tell me, yeah? I can be very forgetful.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Harry nodded. He stepped closer to Louis again and cupped his face in his giant hands. “Give ’em hell, but don’t drive faster than my sister,” He whispered, and Louis laughed. Harry smiled and let his lips kiss Louis’s one final time. 

Harry pulled away before it could go any further, and swiftly opened and closed the door of the dressing room, disappearing as if he’d never been there at all. 

+

Starting line isn’t as much of a nightmare as Louis had braced himself to face. Stello was mildly less talkative, so he reckoned it was a win altogether. He was not often within the crowds, prefers to stick to his private viewing room in the watchtower with all the executives. The cameras obviously ate him up, even gave a few interviews.

Louis used the time while Samuel was distracted to look at Gemma’s car. She and Harry are close together, talking with their mouths slightly covered. Gemma’s nodding attentively while Harry gestured around with his hands. She smiled plainly at him and gave him a tight hug, said something into his grandpa get-up that Louis can’t catch. Her eyes then strayed to him, and she immediately said something to her brother. In turn, Harry looked to the side with his sister still hugging him and smiled with all his perfect teeth to Louis, waving and giving him a thumbs up.

Louis felt caught, but he still rolled his eyes and flipped him off, which only made the Styles siblings laugh together.

A short minute later, Stello beckoned him back into a group conversation with technicians, a deep frown in his brow, and dark eyes judging him silently. Louis opted to ignore it in favor of diving into a three-minute conversation about aerodynamic density. It was as fun as it sounded.

+

“Like every time before Tommo. You’ve got this,” Ben encouraged through his com. 

Louis did not say anything. His car was hot, forty laps in had him sweating into his helmet. The shaking ground from the street course was no easy challenge, and his battle for first place against Renault’s Eddie Tanner was in a nail-biting situation. 

The race was fifty-five laps long, with the straights proving as difficult as they’d seemed from afar. Gemma, Liam, Louis, Eddie, Antonio, and even bloody Petrovich had taken first place at one lap or another. The straight proved which teams actually had cars for endurance, and which for speed. Ferrari didn’t fail to perform in either.

Louis approached turn one at 300 kph but quickly decelerated down to 90 as he took the curve with a graceful grip to his back tires.The track was massively wide, which gave Gemma and Liam a chance to easily fit at the same height as Louis through the straight leading toward turns 5 and 6. Louis groaned inwardly as he forced the car into eight gear, letting the wheel flash as he kept the tires nice and steady. The faster he went, the quicker he could lose control too. A textbook rule in racing. Still, he managed to catch the two of them in his rearview mirror after that.

Cruising down the longest straight ever, Louis saw Turn 11 come up. It was a perfect example of a speed trap. The straight was more than a kilometer long, which meant that once the corner came up, cars were easily prone to crashing, locking up, or swerving off the road, their speeds surpassed anything they’d ever done before, which is were rookies struggled the most. 

From turn 12 to 21, the track became similar to the Monaco circuit, where instead of tight corners, there were more of s-shaped paths to follow. Gemma was good at gripping her wheels to the ground, and tenacious when they came up. Ben had warned Louis by the fifth lap that Gemma had an advantage in that zone. 

Thankfully, Louis did have eight years of experience to account for, so where Gemma shined, Louis glowed. He was quick and masterful through the tight waving road, and while his full concentration stayed on the car maintaining a good balance, Tanner saw a window of opportunity to come at his side and attempt to overtake him. 

The road was narrow and small in that section of the circuit, which meant that as Tanner joined Louis at his side, one of the curves caused the Renault car to give Louis’s front tire a light tap— which in Formula 1 words was like a sucker punch to the jaw.

The contact made Louis’s car swerve dangerously, his balance going haywire as his helmet beeped in warning— the car was not behaving properly, which meant it wasn’t safe for anyone around the car too. Louis’s breath got shorter as his arms locked, and his hands tensed tightly around the wheel. His eyes grew sharper as he maintained a god-like focus around everything going on. He reacted fast— his left foot slowly feathered on the brake, never too much in fear of throwing the car forward and into a wall. He kept maneuvering through the weaving trail until he finally felt the cabin slow down and stop shaking. Once he was sure everything was okay, he immediately turned his attention to Tanner, fading into the background behind Gemma, blocking his view.

“What the fuck was that about?” Louis said loudly into his helmet. His heart was almost thrashing in his chest, his head beating with adrenaline. 

“Tanner got too close and made contact with your right left tire. You almost locked up, but the heat prevented it. You’re good until the end of the race with those,” Ben informed calmly. 

Louis pushed the ‘Copy’ button and sped forward through the smaller straight toward turn one again. 

“Penalty?” Louis asked briefly, his sole focus still on the road ahead. 

“The incident’s with the stewards now. They’ll tell us in a minute. Tanner recognized his mistake and went back two spots.”

“Okay,” Louis responded as turn six approached again.

For the next ten laps, Louis went from first place to third, and even fourth, and back to first. Gemma was tenacious and unforgiving, almost making Louis believe there was no way to beat her in that particular track. Except, he watched her move, and soon enough, he clocked every time she faltered in the turns, using them as a leverage point to overtake her. 

By the last lap, Louis was leading in first place, muscles tense and sore, but still coursing with every drop of adrenaline in his veins. Liam was behind him, almost at his side, if Louis hadn’t been flying down the track already. 

+

Louis’s exhausted body managed to park the car in front of the first place banner by the podium. Immediately he could hear everyone from the Ferrari staff yelling to the side, and his heart beating in his throat. Ben came up and removed Louis from the car, holding him close under his arm as everyone screamed in joy at him. Two Grands Prix in a row was no easy accomplishment. His trembling frame could account for that.

As he removed the helmet with shaking hands, his open balaclava came off with it; his hair was matted to his forehead, his face marked with the pressure of the cloth. He managed to take a full breath of fresh air as he leaned on his hands and let his body calm down for a second. 

“How are you feeling?” Niall asked by his ear through all the chaos, a comforting hand on his back.

“Tired, very tired. It was so intense, I don’t think I’d felt that way since my first Monaco GP,” Louis said to Niall, breathing still regulating. 

Niall patted his back and handed him a bottle of water. Louis closed his eyes in gratitude and chugged the whole thing down, leaving a tiny bit in it to splash over his head in satisfaction. 

“Ahh fuck, that was great,” Louis chuckled, Fran, directing him to the stairs for the podium.

In the stand, Liam and Gemma looked just as flushed as last time, except the exhaustion was notable in their faces too. The track had been a nightmare. 

“Am I the only one who feels like fainting for a little while?” Gemma asked, sounding slightly winded still.

“Fuck no, I’m dying,” Liam replied with a tear of sweat running down his temple. 

Louis could only nod and stand on the number 1 stand, looking to the thousand cameras flashing heavily on them. A small crowd was down the stage, cheering them on, and Louis managed a small smile to the sea of people. He was ready to sleep forever. 

“ _Louis! Over here, just one more!”_

+

By the time Louis walked out of the post-race press conference, his legs felt like jelly, and he was sure a headache was incoming. Fran was not having it.

  
“Lou, I love you, but you skipped the last one. Dickhead Stello is here this time. He’ll want you near to shove you into conversations, it’s not up to me anymore,” She explained for the third time as they walked out of the conference room. 

Louis felt like crying. He just really needed a goodnight’s sleep. After a solid week of nerves and anxiety, all he wanted was to shut his eyes and rest until the next race. As they walked down a few hallways, Fran kept eyeing him sadly, until, she finally gave in and stopped in her tracks, looked back at Louis with a stern face.

“I’ll meet you out in the lobby for an SUV to take us there. If you stay for an hour, I personally promise you to make an excuse for you to leave. Please, don’t make this harder, Lou,” Fran begged.

Louis nodded once and leaned against the wall, “Yeah, yeah, fine. Can I get to my dressing room first? I left my things there, and I prefer to shower before the party.”

“Sure, but no more than fifteen minutes, okay? I’ll wait in the car,” Fran checked her phone and frowned before her heels clicked away into another hallway.

Louis sighed up to the ceiling as he let his arms push him off from the wall. 

The brief walk back to the dressing rooms was short enough to bare. He found his door soon enough and, with a decisive push, let it fly open. He deposited his helmet in a chair, certain the Ferrari staff would come to collect it soon enough. There were a handful of bottles of water on the desk then, and through the mirror, Louis made out the silhouette of Harry sitting by the opposite wall.

“Holy fuck!” Louis gasped as he almost fell back with the sudden fright. “I almost died!”

“My bad! Sorry, sorry,” Harry stood up immediately and walked to Louis, a smile in his lips. He seemed happy, though his eyes weren’t as clear as how they’d been two hours before. Louis looked at them, searching perhaps for the hidden reason.

“How long did you wait for me?” 

“An hour, maybe. As soon as the race ended, I wanted to go out there to hug Gems and you, but crowds are really uh- I don’t like them. The noise too. So I sat here to wait for you after Gemma left,” He shrugged and dug his hands deep into the pockets of his khaki pants, cheeks pink.

Louis felt a flare of warmth shoot up his spine and immediately placed a hand to Harry’s cheek. Harry seemed pleased— he closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, like at the studio. He made a note of doing it more often.

“Thank you for waiting.”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, and then lifted his head to give Louis a nice, soft kiss. It was affectionate, domestic even. The room was quiet, aside from a few voices coming from outside.

“Are you heading to the party?” Harry asked once they pulled away, standing close together, their eyelashes almost touching.

“I don’t want to, but Fran can’t make excuses for me, especially since I won the GP,” He winked at Harry who laughed tenderly. 

“Right, the star of the night has to make an appearance.”

“Mmhm,” Louis nodded and let his headrest to Harry’s chest. He could hear the painter’s heartbeat, strong and steady—his skin’s warmth radiating through his thin t-shirt.

“Do you want to go to the party?” Louis asked softly, his own voice reverberating from Harry’s solid body. 

Harry took a minute to answer. His large hands were splayed across Louis’s back, rubbing circles soothingly, almost lulling him to sleep. He cleared his throat, and the sound also echoed to Louis’s ear. “I— uh, I think it’s not good for me to be around that setting tonight,” He admitted tightly.

“What do you mean?” Louis asked immediately, pulling his face from Harry’s body to stare up at the beautiful man. Harry looked down at him with guilty eyes.

“It’s a bad day,” He confessed sheepishly like it was dumb. Louis frowned slightly.

“Haz, love, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” He asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Like you think it’s embarrassing or dumb to admit that to me. You know we’re _way_ past that, right?” Louis looked hopefully at him because there was nothing in the world that could make Louis judge Harry for his addiction. For how strong he was to live through it every day.

“I just think— It’s just so dumb. It’s been a year, yeah? I should be able to go to parties whenever and not feel like… this,” He gestured at his general self.

Louis’s chest twinged with hurt, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, please. It’s been a year, yes, but no one’s expecting you to be perfectly okay after everything you went through. You should never beat yourself up for struggling. I can tell you. It’s not nice to have your own mind against you, that helps no one. Forgive your mistakes and move on Haz, nobody’s judging you, especially me.”

Harry rubbed a hand through his face, breathing out a long sigh as his shoulders sagged. He looked at Louis with glossy eyes, but he was not crying. He just opened his arms and let Louis walk into them again— so, he wrapped his arms around Harry’s torso in a tight hug, his head resting on his chest once more, except this time there was an edge of protectiveness radiating from him. Nobody could make Harry feel bad, even if it was himself.

“Do you know how much you matter to me, Haz?” Louis asked silently, his own throat feeling generally smaller. It was probably allergies.

Harry was still for a moment as the room got even quieter. His hands then squeezed Louis tighter, closer to him. His chin came to rest on top of Louis’s head, as he started swaying from side to side. 

“I have a pretty good idea, yeah,” He murmured. Louis closed his eyes, glad and relieved.

+

As promised, Fran managed to sneak Louis out of the exclusive after-party, exactly an hour since he’d come in. Stello had indeed held him by the neck most of the time, introducing him into every conversation as his ‘star driver.’ He’d offered Louis plenty of drinks plenty of times, and Louis had a growing suspicion he knew he wouldn’t stay long and hoped that by getting him drunk, he’d manage to make him linger. As it happened, Louis was sneakily going out a back door of the club’s kitchen, where only a busboy spotted him with a hoodie over his head. 

“You owe me, Tomlinson, this is the last time. You know how much of a pain in the ass Samuel can be, especially when it comes to you,” Fran yelled-whispered by the back alley of the club, the pumping music shaking the outer walls.

“I know, I know. I get it, thank you for saving me,” Louis whispered back, ducking when a couple of drunken people walked too close to the alley. 

“Go go, the car is down to the right, jump in and leave for the hotel, no funny business,” Fran ordered sternly, her eyes shooting daggers.

Louis scoffed but decidedly ignored her as he turned and began walking down the street, toward the mouth of the alley that connected to the public sidewalk.

Once he didn’t spot anybody looking his way, Louis made quick steps toward the stealthy black SUV waiting for him already. Climbing in, he noticed the driver was the same one from before, so he simply told him they were heading back to the hotel. His head was almost pounding with exhaustion then, so he rubbed two fingers against his temple, easing the pain slightly.

+

The halls of his hotel floor were deserted. The night was shying on 1 AM, and most people were dead asleep. Louis hoped Harry wasn’t. It had occurred to him on the way over that he could crash in Harry’s room. Their conversation before he left the track had left a nagging feeling. He’d supposed it was okay if he at least tried to keep Harry company for the rest of the night. Especially since he knew he was struggling.

On the way up, Louis had given himself a few inspirational TED talks on every reason why it was okay to go to Harry’s room. When he reached the door, it took him a solid minute to weight all the pros and cons of knocking. A few points included: Harry could be asleep. Harry could be awake but busy. Harry could be asleep _or_ awake and not in the mood to see Louis at all.

The variations ranged on into thousands of possibilities, so Louis damned it all to hell and rapped three solid knocks into the wood without any more hesitation. His stomach turned instantly in regret. He’d probably woken up Harry. _Shit, what had he been thinking?_

But then, the sound of soft footsteps sounded on the other side, and after a moment of silence, the door swung open, and Harry stood there, with tired eyes and a lopsided grin, his curls slightly darker from a shower less than an hour ago. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a long set of flannel pants. He looked heavenly, even in the simplest of pajamas.

“Hi,” Louis whispered, afraid to disturb the room’s around Harry’s.

“Hi you,” Harry whispered back, his teeth in full display, his dimple popping into his cheek. It took everything in Louis not to bite his knuckles and walk away in endearment.

“I snuck out of the party. Wasn’t the same without your teasing.”

“I thought as much,” Harry said airily and tossed his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. Louis rolled his eyes.

“Okay, airhead, yeah, sure.”

They laughed quietly into the corridor, “Would you like to come in?” Harry asked overly-posh to annoy Louis— and succeeded.

Louis walked in, and like last time, took a quick look around the tidy room, the shoes to the side, the almost unpacked suitcase, and a few smaller things in his bedside table. Very Harry, still.

“How are you this organized? I could never achieve this level of order,” Louis commented, looking at the folded clothes in his desk.

“Mum was very picky about us leaving things anywhere. Guess it just rubbed off on me. _Only me_ though, Gemma is incapable of having a place for everything, she’s always running somewhere. On or off track,” Harry said with a slight grin, his eyes glancing over the room but not really looking, just distracted and chatting aimlessly.

Louis turned to him and let his arms hold Harry’s waist. In a quick succession of moves, their lips were back together, gliding and moving simultaneously, tongues lazily intertwined in the middle. Louis breathed in a breeze of cold air, refreshing his burning body, his bold heartbeat. Harry had that sort of effect that made Louis feel weightless all the time.

Harry’s hands held the back of Louis’s neck, kissing him softly until they both pulled away. Louis suppressed a yawn so he wouldn’t offend Harry, but he noticed anyway.

“You’re probably exhausted.”

Louis did not say anything for half a second before a second yawn almost escaped him, “I am, but I felt like crashing here for an hour. Missed you this week,” He mumbled with half-closed eyes, his body going almost limp where he could feel Harry’s warmth seeping into his own skin.

“Do you want to borrow pj’s?” Harry asked softly, rocking him gently.

Louis nodded with closed eyes and made a noise of protest when Harry pulled away to look for them. 

Ten minutes later, they were cuddling close in the living room sofa, a romantic comedy playing in the background while Harry played with Louis’s hair absentmindedly, actually paying attention to the movie. Louis was content closing his eyes and listening to the steady and strong heartbeat in the boy’s chest, the perfect sound to help him doze off into a deep sleep.

Louis could’ve sworn it was ten minutes later when he cracked an eye open but did not feel Harry’s body under his. He sat up slowly, only to realize he was in a bed instead of the sofa, and the clock on the bedside stated it was 3 AM. 

With a confused frown, Louis turned on the nightstands lamp and looked around the room to find he was still in Harry’s room, and in his bed, with no Harry no sight.

His stomach turned. Where could he be so late in the night if the bathroom door was slightly ajar and the lights were off in there? There was no sight of him from where Louis was lying. He could be in the corridor, but what the fuck would he do in the hotel’s freezing hallway at 3 in the morning?

Louis sat up straighter and swung his legs off the bed, Harry’s white t-shirt almost hanging off his shoulder, the short sleeves by his elbows. His pulse pounded loud in his ears, and fear ran rampant in his veins. Where did Harry go? He’d said it’d been a bad night. What if—

_No._ His mind screamed firmly. _Nothing’s happened._

He saw his phone on the nightstand and checked it for any messages, but his screen came up blank, only the time shining back into his sensitive eyes. 

Every worst-case scenario flashed quickly in his mind as he considered what to do. 

Until suddenly, he heard shuffling in the tiny living room where he hadn’t checked, and Louis’s heart leaped immediately. Of course, the one place he hadn’t bloody checked.

Louis walked fast, and intense relief flooded over him fast. A second later, his chest got tighter with warmth.

Harry was quietly sleeping; body tucked in as his back gave to the back of the sofa. He had a thin blanket over himself, and his lashes were delicately fluttering, his breathing barely above a whisper.

Louis kneeled silently beside Harry until their faces were leveled together. He slowly let a hand card through Harry’s curls, the tighter ones at the top that almost looking like chocolate tubes. He sighed in his sleep, happy to feel Louis’s touch nearby. It seemed like. He told himself it was probably a good dream.

“Hmm, Lou,” Harry mumbled so lazily it almost didn’t sound like words.

His ears perked at the sound of his name coming from Harry’s puffy lips, so wonderfully pink and puckered whenever he slept. Louis could watch him for hours.

“Are you awake, Haz?” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear. 

“Mmhm,” He replied from the back of his throat, his eyes shut tight, his back hunched in a curve that looked too painful. Louis’s stomach twinged with guilt. 

“Come to bed with me. Why are you over here?” 

“Cuz I didn’t want to overstep, so I took the couch. No biggie,” Harry mumbled with a very deep voice that made him shiver.

“Wh-I’m the one overstepping you doofus. You should’ve let me sleep here, you’re ten times bigger than me, and you’ll break your back,” Louis scolded, frowning at the semi-sleeping boy. He looked ages younger when he was resting, no problems or worries, or diseases clouding his brain, just his soft face, every muscle relaxed and loose, he looked peaceful.

“Shut up, I was being nice,” Harry replied with an amused side grin, his eyes still sealed shut but his dimples popping suddenly. 

“Okay, Saint Harry, come over to the bed with me. Please.”

Harry groaned like he was inconveniencing him, and Louis was not prepared for him to finally open his big green eyes. They were the same as always, but they took Louis’s breath away still. They probably always would do that. 

He blinked a few times, and Louis almost hugged him because of how cuddly he looked. He refrained and promised himself he’d do that as soon as they laid down together.

Harry groaned a few more times as he sat up, and then grimaced when he let his back go back to a straighter position, letting his spine crack a few pops. Louis raised his eyebrows as he waited. Finally, Harry hunched back and looked at Louis. He smiled and stood up, leaving the blanket behind on the couch, forgotten. 

His giant arms enveloped Louis in a second, and Louis chuckled in surprise and intertwined they made it back to the warm bed.

Harry and Louis crashed together and went under the duvet, where Harry did not hesitate to grip on to Louis as if his life depended on it. They got comfortable, and in seconds, they found that their bodies melded too well together. Louis thought nothing of it, simple coincidences.

“Goodnight, Lou,” Harry mumbled into the top of Louis’s hair. He was rubbing his pale fingers across Louis’s back, and he found that was bringing him quickly back to sleep.

“Night H,” Louis replied in a whisper, his eyes falling heavy as the weight of Harry’s limbs plus the warmth of them together under the covers, sent him right over into unconsciousness. Bliss.


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, don't hate me! It's been so long and I missed you all so much! This pandemic hit my country harder than I could've imagined and it took a long while to get used to the new 'normal.' I hope that wherever you are, you are safe, healthy, and staying inside. Enjoy this chapter and keep your eyes peeled for the next one coming this week too! Please don't get tired of me yet, we're halfway there :) 
> 
> Loads of love, let me know what you think!

_Paradise ended a month later_.

Louis tried to tell himself it was not his fault, but he knew it was. He dragged Harry along; he made him trust that everything was fine, let him believe it was all okay for a _second_ time. Kissed him, let Harry suck him off. His body physically coiled when he thought of how he’d acted. He’d known, deep down, that in some way or another, he was bound to ruin everything. He wasn’t ready, and the unfolding of the last _hour_ pointed in the right direction. He was a mess, a lumpy, scary, terrible mess that shouldn’t have let anyone close. He was a selfish mess then.

It was, most definitely, his fault.

He let himself sink into the couch, eyes closed, and let his mind drift over everything, processing ever so slowly, taking his time, although he didn’t deserve it.

The morning after their innocent sleepover was wonderful bliss. Lazy kisses, brushing their teeth side by side, ordering breakfast to their room. Walking around Vietnam so close together, they were leaving warm imprints against each other’s arms. Harry sneaking them into a deserted alley to kiss him senseless. They held hands when no one was around in clothing stores, sat by a semi-crowded food court, and took in the Vietnamese culture and people. They shared a hamburger because they were full of butterflies and happy feelings. Bliss.

The Chinese Grand Prix then rolled around, and Louis ended fifth. His times fell back. His confidence wavered during the third half of the race— it was really only his fault that they lost.

Liam saved them and ended in third place. A podium was a podium.

“We’ll get it next time Louis, you still did a good race, proud of you,” Ben said into his earphone.

“Thanks, guys, thank you for the hard work, sorry I couldn’t do better. Thank you.”

Harry had been front row once he’d parked the car, waiting for him inside the Ferrari garage to hug him tight. Louis protested that he had to be out there cheering for Gemma, but Harry answered that she had more than enough people screaming for her— that she wouldn’t notice if he were late to the party.

They went for a date that same night in Shanghai, enjoying the views from high up in a fancy restaurant at a penthouse building, and then running around a neon green public garden with koi fish in a pond. It seemed like their own world had stepped into a painting; Louis was content there. They kissed on a bench near the water and didn’t worry about people seeing them, since it was late enough that no one else was around, but just the two of them.

Harry laughed when Louis retold a trip with his mum and Lottie, how carsick she got, and other stories. He sat and listened: his mum and him watching the races, his first fitting for an official racing suit, his first memory of his life, every reason he still got on the car but—never about Leonard.

In a way, Louis thought that he never said anything because he was waiting for something to happen, to show him it was the right moment to talk about his past. But he knew the actual reason, of course.

Every time he considered saying anything, Harry would _smile_ , warmly, and privately, like all of his smiles were reserved for Louis only. It twisted his insides a million different ways, made him dizzy with so much care.

So, every time, he backed out with a racing heart and a sinking gut.

After the Shanghai race, they went back to London. Louis was driving fast— faster than he’d ever driven in the simulation or on their London practice track. The car almost couldn’t keep up, but Ben was more than happy to have mechanics make the S1000 be right there with Louis.

He was shaving, nay, cutting his times down in half.

“Whatever’s changed, keep it up, Lou, this is record-breaking times, mate,” Ben said on the sixth day of training for the Dutch GP.

The day before, Harry had taken Louis on a sneaky date to a small restaurant by the river Thames, and while he wanted to think that hadn’t influenced his driving, Louis would’ve been lying to himself. Harry made him lighter, quieted the loud voices in his head, made his stomach do summersaults with each kiss, with every look; his heart beat a hundred miles a minute whenever he giggled at any of his jokes. It was the tiniest things that undid him.

“I’ll miss you, Lou,” Harry had whispered into Louis’s lips.   
  
They stood outside of Louis’s apartment in the penthouse of his fancy building. It was massive, too big, but it’d been years since he’d began racing, so he’d gotten accustomed to hosting sleepovers with his sisters, or he always had his mum around, or Niall would sometimes crash when he was feeling bored. He’d learned to love his place, but then Harry walked in once and then left— and Louis guessed that was the same feeling to the sun suddenly leaving a room.   
  
“I’ll miss you more. Germany seems a little too far away,” Louis whispered back, hands by the small of Harry’s back, fingers intertwined so they would stay there.   
  
“It does, yeah,” Harry mumbled as he edged his lips closer to Louis’s, his mouth teasingly moving without really connecting into a kiss. Louis groaned in protest and made his own lips crash against the boy’s, the air leaving his lungs in a steady beat, his blood sliding slower across his body, time melting into a nonsense of numbers. They remained like that for forever.

  
“Call me when you get there?” Louis asked when they’d needed air and broken up their snogging in the deserted hallway. After all, Louis was the only tenant in the penthouse.   
  
“Of course, love,” Harry replied, blinking his eyes a few times. Louis had noticed that he did that whenever he got too much into their kisses, blinking his eyes as if slapping himself in the face, forcing his senses to return to him at once.

“Okay, see you in Zandvoort on Friday, yeah?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry laughed back and stepped back from their embrace. He smiled a side-grin with a dimple, and his green eyes almost sparkled under the elegant yellow lights. Louis smiled.

“See you later, 28.”

“Mmmhmm,” Louis bit his lower lip, admonishing his face for trying to curl into an amused laugh.  
  
Harry boarded a plane with Gemma to Germany for important Mercedes meetings and practice sessions. So, for the next five days, they FaceTimed, Harry sent over a giant bouquet just because Louis cried into them, chastised himself in the mirror, and then sent Harry the dirtiest picture he could muster without laughing at himself. He received heaps of all-caps words and a small, shaky voice message of Harry whispering he was sitting with all the Mercedes engineers in a tiny office. Louis almost rolled into the floor, laughing.  
  
He continued to do well in his own training sessions, going faster, getting smaller numbers in each lap. Liam was also improving quite well, and when Harry wasn’t around, he, Zayn, and Niall were there to make Louis break his diet and dish on his relationship with the artist. He wouldn’t share much aside from mundane details and selfies they’d taken in their river date.   
  
Niall had pointed out that his lock screen would break the internet if fans saw it, and Louis had to agree. It was his favorite picture from that evening. Harry, with his arm, draped across Louis’s shoulder, his nails black and red, he was wearing a lopsided flat cap, and his lips were kissing Louis’s. They both had their eyes closed, and the definition was slightly grainy from the dimmed lighting in their little corner of the restaurant. Louis’s lips were puckered while Harry’s were slightly more open, his face in the middle of breaking into a laugh, his other hand lightly touching Louis’s cheek. Louis had let his free hand rest on Harry’s forearm while the other took the picture. They looked happy.

His stomach turned, looking down at his phone then. Dread swished in his stomach.

After training was done, Louis would take short walks to clear his head, maybe call Harry and talk to him until the break of dawn, although Louis only tried that once after he was sure he wasn’t driving the next day.

North-Holland reared into the plane’s window view a day after he’d hung out with the boys. They touched down in their private jet and set for the hotel on a cloudy Wednesday evening. The streets weren’t as crowded as last year, but the energy remained like every other city they visited on race week— anxious, nervous excitement for Sunday. People were bustling and moving and running, talking loud on phones in the hotel lobby, racers everywhere being checked in, some of them laughing by the hotel bar, sipping on lemonade or water. Louis headed straight for Fran, who held out his room key.  
  
“Be down here for dinner with a big smile and no bloody black circles. We need to keep the sponsors happy, so I scheduled a table for you, David Ward and the De Pintos—”  
  
Louis groaned loud, “Fran…”

“—don’t want to hear it. You had to schmooze them at the after-parties, but instead, you were running around with Harry. I don’t really care if you marry the man, but, please, don’t say anything today,” Fran rubbed her temples lightly, her eyes brushing around the room, reading it instead of looking up at Louis.

He sighed but agreed with her. His shoulders sagged slightly. “Fine. But, please tell me this is the last one for the rest of the season?”

“With the assholes? Yes. The De Pintos only come to the Dutch GP because of their sons. They are in uni classes here in Amsterdam. Can’t say I like them at all but, they’re our most loyal sponsors. Will you behave this time?”

“If they do,” Louis mumbled, looking at his shoes. It was true that the De Pintos were generous to the Scuderia, but it didn’t change the fact that they were wildly homophobic and had the most outdated opinions about everything. Sitting to eat with them was like hiring a free torture session. Last time he’d feigned a severe headache and left Liam to deal with them. He’d always been the mature one for a reason.  
  
“Okay, what time?”

“7 PM sharp. Not a minute later,” She said and then looked down at her phone, pinging fast with new messages. She frowned but then looked up at him, perfect poker face again, “Sharp Louis, or so help me god.”  
  
“Mhm,” Louis nodded and watched her stalk away to the front desk, speaking in fast Dutch to the hotel receptionist, not a second later. Louis would’ve been flabbergasted right then, but he’d watched her speak every single language in the world for move than seven years, and honestly, it was very much like Fran to be a polyglot.

+

The dinner went as smoothly as putting a gay man with no fear of repercussions in a table with two wild, old, homophobes. They talked for most of the dinner while Louis sat and nodded a few times, appeasing them each time they waited for him to react to their stories. They were chuckling, sneering at people, and overall, being the same they’d always been when Louis had the misfortune to be near them.

Sarah de Pinto, an elderly woman with a perfect hair-do and a very wrinkled skin, talked for a whole hour about her eldest son— a wealthy businessman who’d only gotten as far as he did because of his father’s bottomless pockets.

  
Alan De Pinto was quiet for most of the night, except when he would add a comment or two, his face in an ever-present frown. He barely looked at Louis.

After their food had been served and their waiter had left, they began to make comments about the people Louis was seen with around the paddock. They mentioned how people talked a lot about things that would happen in the paddock. While Louis had already bitten his tongue around twenty times already, he did not hesitate to shut them up before they got any further, and mentioned Harry in the conversation.  
  
“The people I keep close are my most trusted friends only. I hardly think any of them are to be spoken about in any other context but that,” He said forcefully, a glass of water in one hand, and the perspiring surface leaving small cold drops along his palm. It soothed his burning, angry body, almost trembling from all the things they’d said so far.

“Hmm,” Was all Sarah managed to say before she, too, brought her glass of cold champagne up to her lips.

Louis called from the heavens every last sliver of patience, begging himself not to snap at them in Fran’s honor. 

“Do you share the ideals of _all_ your closest friends then?” Alan asked morosely as if his words weren’t enough to make Louis understand they’d reached subject, Harry.

“I do, Alan, all of them. Some of them I hold even closer than most, so, as you might imagine, I get very protective when anyone tries to speak to me about them. You understand, don’t you?” He asked as calmly as he could manage. He didn’t sound very calm.

Alan nodded once, slowly agreeing, as if he didn’t, but the sooner they could end the torture, or move on to another subject, the better.

“So, how are the twins?” Louis asked immediately to a wide-eyed Sarah, her grey eyes centering on him after they’d been swaying from her husband to the racer painfully fast.

“Oh,” Sarah said in a true tone of surprise. After all, most people avoided asking Sarah De Pinto about her children— but when they did, it was most often than not, to look away from Alan’s beady eyes.

So, on she went, speaking for the next hour about her twins as if they were five-year-olds.

Sooner than Louis expected, their meals were done, their topics of conversation ran out, and there was nothing else to do but bid them farewell and race as fast as he could to the elevators at the back of the lobby.

“It was lovely to see you, Louis, we should do this more often. Maybe sometime back in London?” Sarah asked as she gathered her evening shawl from the backrest of her seat.

Louis nodded tightly and forced his mouth to relax from the frown it yearned to stick to. “Sure, of course, as soon as I find the time.”

“Louis,” Alan beckoned him forward with an outstretched hand. Louis had no option but to walk forward and let Alan shake his hand tightly, perhaps tighter than socially acceptable. “Win those races. My money’s set on you, after all. Don’t make me look bad.”

Maybe it was the years of training, maybe it was the fact that motorsports is a very homophobic platform, but Louis managed to bite his tongue as firmly as possible, nodded once, and turned without another word to either of them.

+

The next morning Louis spends cooped up in the simulator, running countless laps around the new and improved Zandvoort track. It’s a requirement for all the drivers to run infinite loops around new tracks so they can have them committed to heart by the time Sunday rolls around.

Quali was only a day away, but Louis did not feel as jittery as he’d been a week ago. It might have something to do with the fact that Harry had been hanging nearby ever since he’d landed on North Holland two days before. This time around, they’d only managed to enjoy two quick meals together, one in Louis’s hotel room— since both of them were busy with tighter schedules than usual— and another by the paddock.   
  
Harry was setting up to begin a small day-time school for kids back in London, so he could take up his days doing something other than following Gemma around.

According to what Harry had told him, his therapist and sponsor were thrilled he was dedicating his free time to something productive, and which he enjoyed. Louis was just fond, warm, and proud. He’d told him as much over lunch in the cafeteria of the circuit a day before. Harry had only smiled all toothy and wide, puckering his lips to give Louis a quick, chaste kiss after he was sure no cameras or people were looking.   
  
Louis’s chest had never felt as light, his shoulders hardly ever tensed when he hung out at the track anymore, and he could feel that ever-present crease between his brows had faded with every passing day.

Quali came and passed quickly, but Louis was nevertheless relaxed enough that he managed to get P2 for the race. He could’ve felt disappointed in himself for not making it to pole position, but there was Harry waiting for him outside the Ferrari garage, and his mind had no time to meddle on silly nuisances like times and positions.

They cuddled close through the night, they breathed deeply in each other’s arms, and Louis slept more soundly than he’d ever slept hours before a race. He whispered a small ‘thank you’ to Harry in the morning, which only made the artist frown with puffy, sleepy eyes, then breaking into giggles as he observed the state of Louis’s mop of hair and his indented cheek that had molded with Harry’s shirt. He enjoyed the sound of Harry’s heartbeats, sue him.

Race day was as slow as molasses. Harry had to leave as soon as they reached the track, and Louis spent most of his morning warming up, going through his planned strategy, his backup strategy, and countless interviews that seemed to have no end. Fans draped in a sea of red were screaming tirelessly as Louis walked past. He gave them all a quick thumbs up and a kiss, which only made the mob more hysterical.

He was finally pulled into the quiet bubble of the paddock, where only a controlled group of people had access, and no one was allowed to distract drivers as they went through their pre-race routines.

For Louis, that included drowning out the masses with a good pair of headphones, doing last-minute reflex exercises with Wesley, and discussing any weather updates with his crew as he stretched and bent a few times. Harry was always in his peripheral vision, chatting with Mercedes mechanics, bending to the floor to talk with Gemma in her car, then looking curiously at the screaming fans with banners for his sister— all with a child-like wonder that made Louis warm all over. His eyes were always bright, even under a muddy sky.

Their meteorologist had predicted a slight shower by the middle of the race, but by the look of the dark clouds, it was hard to believe it would only be a measly couple of drops. His heartbeat dared to beat faster, but he forced himself to calm down and breathe properly. He was not planning on finally breaking before a race so far along in his career. He’d had a whole lifetime to do that. He’d missed his last chance about five years ago.

Louis felt a pair of burning eyes behind him, and rather than standing up and looking behind him to the face of the unwavering gaze, he opted to look between his legs, his back stretching pleasantly, his legs burning just slightly with the big pull of his muscles.

Between his red racing-overalls and the flowing blood to his head, Louis made out Harry’s figure, leaning against the side of Gemma’s set of wet tyres. His eyes were then covered by a pair of big blue sunglasses, which prevented Louis from discerning, specifically the expression on him. It wasn’t long before a wide, knowing smirk spread across his pink lips. His dimples blew deep into his cheeks, and his mouth chewed on a piece of gum. His arms were confidently crossed around his chest, and his black nail polish shone slightly under the bright grey clouds above them. Louis took a breath and felt the rest of the blood in his body rush up to his face. He choked slightly on a drop of saliva, attempting to go up to his throat as he harshly swallowed the feeling growing up his spine. Lust.

It was probably Harry’s very expressive body language, but also the fact that a thousand cameras surrounded them from every angle. Harry did not care who saw. He held himself so certain; there was no shred of doubt or shyness in his existence. He was straight-forward, even so, many feet away at the other side of the track. _I like you, and I don’t care who knows it._

Louis would’ve needed smoke signals and sky-writings to get it any clearer. Harry was an open book. Louis was not.

This thought sobered him quickly and made him abruptly stand up again. His muscles relaxed and retracted into their normal shape. His throat flexed a few times. His heart reduced back to its usual speed, and the background noise resumed around the two of them. His rotten brain was always getting in the way nowadays.

Then, suddenly, a drop of water landed on his nose.

Louis’s years of experience sank deep into his stomach, and he breathed in slightly. He hadn’t looked up to the sky yet, his back facing Harry— he felt his eyes still plainly set on him.

Rain came sooner than they’d expected, which meant they were bound to drive over a wet track. He breathed in two more times. His back muscles stretched and retracted dutifully as he let air seep slowly into his lungs. Focusing on his body over his mind always managed to help him disconnect from the anxiety that would bubble over his throat. He looked up, and a small drop of rain landed cleanly on his forehead. There was not a single space of free sky above the clouds.

It would be a very rainy race. His stomach twisted slightly. He focused on his hands, his fingers opening and closing slowly. His eyes fluttered shut and open too fast, and his brain got dizzy for a second. Then, two warm hands landed on his back, a few more raindrops hitting his neck, but they didn’t matter because two warm hands were softly pressing against his back muscles.

Harry.

“Breathe, Louis,” Harry’s deep timbre echoed in his brain, a gentle reminder, not a demand. _HarryandLouis_. “Breathe.”

Louis actually listened the second time and processed the lack of movement in his chest, the growing burn in his back that urged him to let his nose suck in some oxygen. He opened his mouth and gasped loudly. Harry squeezed his shoulders hard, helping him relax the muscles in his back and neck. Time rolled slow.

There wasn’t much noise, even with all the mechanics and team principals almost yelling over the car engines, only Harry’s controlled breaths, his skin’s warmth making its way through Louis’s racing uniform.

“Nod for me if you’re okay, Lou,” Harry whispered urgently, his voice sounding at arm’s length from Louis’s ear. He was clearly attempting to make their interaction seem as friendly and not-intimate as possible.

Louis nodded twice and steeled himself, letting his feet turn slowly to face Harry. His body spun, and his eyes quickly found the painters. They were greener up close, under the murky sky. Always so very green.

His stomach somersaulted at the thought of those eyes looking only at Louis, rapt with attention and care for him only.

“I’m okay, love,” Louis shared back under mumbling lips, knowing very well that any camera from the grandstands or TV stations could read their lips otherwise. “Thank you.”

Harry nodded too, and let his hands drop from Louis’s shoulders, his body slumping in relief and a tinge of sad disappointment.

Louis understood—he too wished they could just share a goodbye kiss at the starting line, no matter who was watching or what they thought. Even a grace of their hands would appease him.

_‘Don’t make me look bad,’_ echoed Alan De Pinto’s voice. Of course, he knew it was not just his voice, but rather that of every sponsor brand proudly plastered over every inch of Liam’s and his Formula 1 car. ‘ _Everyone would leave,’_ Fran had drunkenly admitted to him three years ago.

Vile threatened to rise up his throat.

With Leonard, it’d been different, because he’d never felt like he needed to yell from rooftops that he was with his boyfriend. It’d always felt _wrong_ to talk about his relationship with anyone else _but_ him. They were a horrible secret that Louis detested sharing with anyone.

With Harry, his hands closed tightly into fists, and his chest felt heavy. It took everything to keep himself from kissing Harry in front of the whole world.

Still, he managed, and a mechanic urged Louis into his car. He sighed and nodded, watching Harry’s wispy chocolate curls move around with the wind, his broad shoulders and lean waist walking away in his Mercedes crew shirt. He sighed once more and squeezed his head inside his helmet, letting his mind disconnect instantly, and his sole focus remain on the race ahead.

+

“ _Okay Louis, it looks like we’re good on tyre temperature, use the Overtake button whenever you’re ready,”_ Ben ordered into his ear.

“I need another lap before I can do that. Keep me posted on gap time,” Louis said shakily over a bumpy turn 4 in the Circuit Zandvoort. He let go of his ‘Mic’ button and adjusted a few settings in his wheel, feeling the drag of his rear tyres and the oncoming pressure of Liam in his tiny rearview mirror.

After 64 laps, Louis could feel the sweat that was building in his brow, the gallons of water that he’d probably shed already, and his back burning with the heat of the engine behind him. Every single nerve in his body had migrated to his feet, where every single movement either made his gap to Gemma’s car smaller or bigger.

Liam had kept a steady gap between them for most of the race, but now it seemed he was ready to try to overtake Louis. His red car was bright and fast, almost bumping front wings with the back of his car. He breathed in twice and unglued his eyes from the rearview mirror, instead focusing on a tricky maneuver down to turn 13. He managed to create a decent gap with Liam, and only because Louis was very aware that Liam struggled terribly on that particular curve. It was not very friendly, but F1 had never been friendly anyway.

“Styles seems to be having engine problems. At any rate, keep a comfortable distance and wait for a chance to overtake before lap 71,” Ben came in at lap 68.

Louis started, his senses focusing then solely on the midnight black car ahead of his own. Gemma had been good for most of the race. She hadn’t faded once, and for the first time, Louis hadn’t found any chance to overtake easily. He’d tried a few times, but as much as he tried, she was savvy in her movements. Her defense response was sharp and quick, her reflexes lightning fast.

As they both crossed the line that marked lap 71, Gemma took the first five turns as flawlessly as she had the last 70 times. It was a promised race, and only a safety car would assure him a win. He wasn’t desperate this once, thinking about Gemma’s unwavering bravery and the heart she put into every race. A deserved win overall.

He and Liam weaved down turn 5-10 with practiced ease, following Gemma’s lead with a shorter gap time each time. Ben had announced that Gemma’s engine problem might have resolved itself, so Louis made a note to keep a steady pace and get safely to the finish line.

Suddenly, turn 11 reared closely through Louis’s visor, and all he had time to process was the image of Gemma’s car at the exit side of the curve. Her front wing was completely engulfed by a mass of tires that kept the track safe in case of crashes. Her engine was smoking only slightly, but he could not make it in time to make sure that she was moving and safe.

“What happened at turn 11? Is Gemma okay?” Louis asked after thirty seconds of silence— the mandated time needed to successfully find out how serious a crash had been.

Ben’s mic had static for 5 seconds, then “She’s fine, out of the car and heading for pits, her engine failed and shut down, but she’s okay. Push Louis, last lap.”

Louis sighed a long and heavy sigh of relief as his car kept flying down the track toward turn 15. A safety car was deployed, but only to end in an anti-climactic surge of cars entering the pit lane and parking in their assigned positions.

With a still slightly queasy stomach, Louis parked his car at the number one parking spot, Liam coming in next to him in number two. Antonio arrived next to them in third.

Louis went through the usual motions of removing the protective plate around his shoulders, then detached the wheel from its socket, placed it on top of the car, swiftly grabbed on to the halo, and let his arms pull him out of the cockpit. He quickly replaced the wheel back in its place and turned to Liam, also going through the same process. They hugged tightly, though they couldn’t do much else with their helmets on. Antonio clapped Louis on the shoulder from behind, so he turned quickly and congratulated him on a good race. The screams of the Ferrari grandstand at the other side of the track were defeaning. They were hollering in unison, throwing stuffed bears, flags, balloons, shirts, and hats. Louis waved at them quickly before he headed behind a barrier to having himself weighed and tidied up for the podium ceremony.

He removed his helmet as soon as he found a good place to put everything down. His mechanics and engineers clapped his shoulders in congratulations, smiling big as they passed him by. Louis had Gemma at the forefront of his mind.

“Lou!”

He immediately turned at the sound of his name from that very familiar voice. His chest fluttered fast.

Harry was barreling down a long corridor toward the pit lane, his hair disheveled, and his shirt crinkled in all sorts of places. He looked like he’d run a marathon twice, yet his eyes never left Louis’s.

“Oh my days, that was intense,” Harry said breathlessly as soon as he was within earshot. He slammed into Louis and held him tight in his arms. His muscles flexed and gripped tightly to Louis’s torso as if he’d never let go, and his heavy breathing landed straight between Louis’s shoulder and neck. He closed his eyes in blissful serenity.

“Tell me about it,” Louis tiredly murmured close to Harry’s ear. His body had been absorbed of all fluids, and he was soaked in sweat. He was still catching his breath in Harry’s arms.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now,” He answered quietly, letting his nose be invaded by Harry’s faint cologne, vanilla, and forest green grass, his shampoo a delicate lavender that mixed so well with the rest of him. Louis could get drunk on that smell alone.

“I’m glad. Gem’s kicked a few tyres coming into the pit lane. She’s a sore loser when she can’t help it,” Harry’s chuckles vibrated through his chest and into Louis. He chuckled back.

“She’s okay, right?” Louis managed to ask with droopy eyelids. He felt tired all of a sudden. His race-high had been replaced with never-ending fondness and warmth for Harry Styles. He did not mourn it, since the feeling tasted a thousand times better anyway.

“Right as rain. She’s just pissed she was so close to winning and had an engine failure in the last lap.”

“Been there. It’s bloody hard not to chew someone off afterward,” Louis’s speech came almost slurred, his jaw tight were it pressed to Harry’s shoulder.

With no cameras around, they could happily enjoy each other’s embrace, and Louis was in no hurry to let go just yet. Harry, it seemed, wasn’t either.

“Hmm, yeah. She almost ran me over with her car, but I flipped her off, so we’re even,” His deep laugh sounded distant. Louis sighed, amused. A minute passed.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, 28. You’ve got a podium celebration to attend y’ know.”

“Mhm, do you think Liam could go get the trophy for both of us?”

Harry laughed, then began to loosen his grip around Louis, but Louis only gripped tighter, unwilling to detach himself just yet, “Five more minutes.”

“Not a chance. It’s already bad enough that no one in your team likes the idea of us. I’d rather not give them more reasons to hate me,” Harry managed to escape Louis’s death grip and giggled when Louis reached for him again. Harry slapped his ass hard, which made him yelp in surprise, “Off you go, perv. Get that trophy to the hotel so I can Instagram it and break the internet.”

Louis snorted and rolled his eyes, but nevertheless nodded and followed and anxious-looking FIA official, ready to escort him up to the podium ceremony.

“I’ll be front row,” Harry yelled after him.

“Then I’ll avoid that row,” Louis replied without looking back and laughed when he heard the insulted noise Harry made behind him. What a child.


	14. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay updates! Excited to write chapter 15. Enjoy x

Two weeks later, they were sitting in a restaurant high above London, Big Ben’s reflection casting light against the side of their building. Louis could heart quiet chatter over the soft Bossa Nova music coming from the overhead speakers, and a few clicks and clacks of fine cutlery in adjacent tables or the cooks swiftly preparing food at the back.

They’d enjoyed a wonderful day together, walked around like tourists, and held hands openly, hidden in the crowds of thousands. They’d finally reached the end of their day with a private dinner where they could hold hands and trust the staff would never mention a thing they’d seen to anyone.

“…but I guess she thought I was going the other way because the next time we—”

“I love you.”

Suddenly the world stopped.

There was no sound.

Louis couldn’t breathe. He was sure. The thinning of the air around him couldn’t be just his imagination. The room’s oxygen had gone somewhere unreachable. Somewhere he’d worked hard to hide away from his subconsciousness. He’d been dragged back there unwillingly, stomach in knots.

_“I love you, please, Louis. This was the last time. I’m getting help. It won’t matter after today, right?”_

_“R-right,” His body shook tightly, his arms and legs like twigs, trembling from terror. His skin had marks from the side of his arms to the entirety of his thighs. His eyes felt heavy in his head. His head felt heavy on his shoulders. Part of him knew it was from all the screaming and fighting they’d done earlier. Another part of him knew it was from the exhaustion of sticking around for a broken man who could so quickly love him then suddenly hate him. He was exhausted._

_“Let’s go to bed, yeah? Let me see you,” He would say brokenly as if somebody else had come in and tried to strangle Louis against the floor. There were angry red fingertip marks on his neck. He breathed in once, and it pinched his throat slightly. He was used to it; he never winced anymore._

_“I’m s-so sorry, Lou. You know I never mean it, right? I-I just can’t control myself when I get so angry. I blackout, I can’t think or feel anything. You believe me, right? I love you so so much. I don’t ever want to do this,” He would sob as if he was hurting in Louis’s place. He would beg and cry as if he was bracing himself to wake up sore and in pain, swallowing pain killers to relieve some of the pressure on his body._

_“Mmhmm,” Louis replied with a tight throat. His eyes welled up with tears, his nose flaring furiously as he tried to hold back the endless sobs. His gaze somewhere far away, imagining a life where his boyfriend was healthy, happy, patient. A happier time._

_“Okay, I just need you to know. I don’t do this on purpose. I’ll get better. I’m so sorry, come here, let me clean that up.”_

_He would bend down and clean all the broken plates he’d pulled from the cupboards in Louis’s kitchen. Wipe the floor with a wet flannel after he’d smashed the massive jars of juice and water from the counter, then continue to the living room, where some of their food had ended up in their couch, on the ceiling, on the floor, on the walls._

_Some days were worse than others; days were the injuries were harder to hide. His racing suit helped loads. Whenever his face was involved though, Leonard would always panic afterward, muttering nervously how people would ‘believe he was in an abusive relationship’ or ‘say it was Leonard’s fault he’d gotten hurt.’ These were all true, but neither Louis nor Leonard had the stomach to face it back then._

_For Leonard, Louis getting hurt was a sad side-effect of his rage episodes, never his ultimate goal to see him harmed in any way._

_For Louis, it was the absolute truth, so he stuck around to try and fix Leonard’s broken heart and mind for him. Only time taught him that his place was never there._

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you._

Louis could not for the life of him get a breath in, but a soft exhale managed its way out, “ _No_.”

No, no, no. It could not happen again. It’d been so long since he’d heard it for the last time. It could not happen this time, not like last time.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked with a worried look. His eyes were warm and deep green, careful. Not at all like Leonard’s— cold, distant, angry. Yet, Louis’s mind seemed to deceive him. In Harry’s place, Leonard sat with hunched shoulders, hands to himself, looking around nervously, worried others might see them together and start talking. He was not looking at Louis but down to the floor, through the window at the view outside, on his phone, or at the table, lost somewhere far away, somewhere Louis could never reach him.

“What’s wrong, Louis? Talk to me,” Harry’s voice attempted to break through the illusion, but Louis could not, for the life of him, manage to break away from the vivid image in front of him. His mind was solely set on the fact that before he was his abusive ex-boyfriend, telling him, he loved him as he’d done every time before, right after he’d been hurt.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

_No, you don’t. You never did. Stop saying that, please. I’m begging you._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

_“No,”_ Louis managed to whisper again. There was a well of tears in his eyes. His body went to auto-pilot. His limbs worked around him; he was not present anymore, but shrunken into a shell far away, deep in the thick vines within his mind.

His body was quickly sprinted from the table. Someone’s voice called his name. He ignored it.

Through the entrance, his legs were working fast to get the stairs. They were going, two at a time, three, then four at a time. He was outside in the next moment, and the cold breeze hit him suddenly, though it did not wake him up.

He was getting into a random cab, and then he was in his house, a single tear track down the side of his cheek.

_I love you. No, you don’t._

His apartment door loomed closer, and suddenly an explosion of memories rose to the surface without notice. Begging him to stay, waiting for him to come home. Waiting for him to leave so the door could be bolted shut. Crying against it while something broke in another room. A knock and a drunk Leonard standing there, looking angry— always angry. He would try to close it, but there was no use when he was intoxicated past the point of no return—the waiting game.

Inside, the furniture had been rearranged a year ago. Every single object inside the apartment had been refurnished, thrown out, or exchanged for a different thing. Liam, Zayn, and Niall had cleansed the apartment of any triggers or memories. Just the door remained. Louis still fought for air in his lungs. The room was getting hazier. He managed to shut the door, though he did not lock it.

His feet gave out first, then the rest of his body followed suit, folding into itself on the floor. Only his labored breathing could be heard around the room. He lost track of time; the concept lost to him where he laid.

A knock came an hour, a minute, a day later, he couldn’t have been sure. The sky seemed just as dark, but his body felt weaker. He had no strength to attempt to tell. It was Liam’s voice, loud and booming.

“I’m coming in; get out of the way, Louis!” Liam’s muffled yell came in, but Louis made no move to try and stop him. His lungs were still heavy, Leonard was still in his apartment, now pacing the floor, seething mad, fists tight, the skin white around his knuckles. Louis could not stop seeing him, even if he closed his eyes. The vision was still standing there, so very real it disarmed him.

“Louis!” Liam called, then a second later, the sound of shoes hurriedly walking toward him on the floor. He felt Liam’s hands on his head, turning him around to face him. His eyes were set and analytical, almost like a doctor looking for anything that was vitally out of place or fatally hurt. He found nothing and proceeded to press Louis to him, letting his weight rest completely on Louis’s chest.

Oddly, the pressure forced Louis’s lungs to take in a breath, which suddenly helped his brain catch up, feeling the oxygen suddenly come bounding through his system once more. His heartbeat accelerated, and he managed to keep breathing, a little stronger every single time.

“Breathe, Louis. Breathe, breathe for me,” Liam whispered shakily, his own heartbeat vibrating against Louis’s chest. He could not see his best friend’s eyes, but Louis was sure they were worried, terrified, confused, yet always warm. Warm like Harry’s.

A single tear then slipped past his eye, and a single sob racked his chest. His face immediately contorted into a painful realization of the last hours, and his sobs came in louder, stronger, his whole body shuddering with his cries. The world faded as he only felt the horrible pain and beat of his heart, drowning out everything but Liam trying to hold him together, trying to keep him whole, in one piece.

“Let it out, let it all out. Just, keep breathing Lou, that’s it. It’s okay; I’m here.”

That pain was the closest he’d ever felt it since a year before. Louis felt a year younger, relieved yet heartbroken in Niall’s living room. What had been a small celebration for locking Leonard up had quickly turned into a room of his three best friends all quietly huddled as close to him as they could, holding him as he let out gut-wrenching screams. His heart felt equally shattered and at peace for so long, after three years.

They all held him close through the night and fell asleep in a tangle of limbs until late the next morning. From then on, parts of racing, training, a long getaway to Greece with his closest friends, and the sudden, unexpected appearance of one Harry Styles helped him stand back up again, on his own two feet.

“I thought things had gotten better,” Liam whispered sadly into Louis’s shoulder, where they’d been sitting on the cold living room floor for almost three hours. His body was numb, though; it had no way of knowing it’d been that long. “I was dumb enough to think everything had just magically gone away,” Liam scoffed at himself.

Louis shook his head twice, and the movement made his beating head hurt slightly. His bloodshot eyes were almost swollen shut, and his face was probably a blotchy mess of snot, tears, sweat, and sad eyes. He cleared his throat, raw from all the crying of the last three hours.

“You had no way of knowing,” Louis whispered back. His vocal cords were a stringy mess, and his voice sounded horribly congested. It wouldn’t have surprised him if they never got better.

“I should’ve known then,” Liam threw back, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly. He relaxed quickly, though, once he realized his self-destruction would not help anyone. “I’m sorry this is happening again, Lou.”

Louis closed his eyes tightly, almost so hard he saw white spots in his dark vision. The tears were threatening to return, and his throat was daring to close back up again with a new wave of sadness. He persisted, fought it, if only just temporarily. “I’ll get better— it’s fine. I always do, right?”

Liam chuckled, but his chest sounded hollow, where Louis’s ear was resting on top of his heart. Liam had a steady heartbeat, not too quiet or too loud, but just sound enough that it could soothe him to sleep. He sighed again. Liam sighed too.

“That’s not the point. I just hate to see you hurting. I’m not great with pain, but you’re too good at it. You shouldn’t be.”

“Mmm,” Louis managed before his throat closed up once more and a few more welled up tears rolled freely down his cheeks. Liam’s jumper was soaked with Louis’s previous crying session, but he looked unfazed by it, so Louis did not mind it either. Liam just squeezed him tighter to him and let him keep crying for the rest of the night.

+

Morning came slowly— then, all at once.

Louis had dreamt of Harry. His voice had echoed through the empty space in his heart all night long, leaving him restless. His calloused fingers from playing guitar while Louis went soundly to sleep after a race in a cold hotel room, his hands wrapped securely around his torso, his eyes, sleepy and lazy in a Sunday morning, his rugged voice like a beating drum, vibrating against his ribcage where he sometimes rested his head— it all visited him the night before. He almost sobbed too loudly a few times. Liam slept away easily beside him, unmoving, quiet, letting Louis wallow in peace.

His eyes were even more swollen as he assessed his face in the bathroom mirror. The water was running in the shower, and while his body begged him to lay back down and rest the sadness away, he knew there was no point in giving in, as race week loomed closer, with two days left before he was set to fly back to Spain and race at the very circuit where it all began three months before. His chest contracted, but his body was too worn to cry anymore.

A long shower later, Louis walked out of his ensuite bathroom feeling steadier and ready to finally figure out what his future with Harry would be, knowing Liam would be ready to do the same as soon as he walked out into the dining room, where a plate with a light breakfast awaited him.

He barely managed to eat most of it, but by the time he was done, his body thanked him infinitely.

“Do you need more time?” Liam asked, sitting adjacent to him at the table. His voice was patient, understanding. He was not there to make matters worse. Louis shook his head once, then let his fingers drift to the seam of his jumper, lightly rubbing the fabric to calm himself down.

“I need to figure this out, Li.”

Liam nodded, “You do. But, I think we’re looking at it from different perspectives. You don’t need to do this _only_ for Harry’s sake. You need to do this for yourself too. I meant what I said last night, Lou. You also deserve to be happy. To heal.”

Louis couldn’t help the tiny curve in his lip. He hadn’t heard that often enough, “I texted Fran earlier; she’s scheduled a few appointments with Helen again.”

“That’s good, yeah? Helen’s really nice. She helped you the most out of all the others.”

Helen had been Louis’s primary therapist for the last two years. There’d been many shoot and miss cases with plenty of other professionals, before Helen introduced herself to Louis once, and then promised to help him mend all the broken edges and restore anything that had been cracked. She’d saved his life too many times to count then.

Louis nodded, looking at the polished wooden table. He couldn’t bear to move his head around, the growing headache making him stay as still as possible. Then, Louis remembered what he’d been burning to ask since the night before.

“How did you know what happened?”

Liam sat up straighter, looking at Louis’s distracted eyes, staring somewhere off-frame. “He called me… non-stop. I think it was right after. He sounded upset and scared for you. He mentioned seeing you climb into the first taxi you could find and zoom off. He had no chance to catch you by the time he made it downstairs. He was really sad afterward when I called to let him know you were home safe. He sounded…” Liam hesitated to continue, Louis’s downtrodden face seeming to make it harder.

“Disappointed,” Louis finished for him. The burning in his eyes was a memorized feeling, so he paid it no mind.

Liam nodded reluctantly, face contorted in hesitation, “I’m sorry, we can continue this later if you prefer.”

“No, no. I have to do it now; I can’t keep dragging Harry along like this. It’s not fair. I already did this to him once. He does not deserve any of this _shit,”_ He spit the word out because it turned his stomach to remember Harry’s broken face, his sad, droopy eyes as he watched him go, twice. “I hate myself for this one, Liam. I fucking hate myself.”

“That won’t help anyone, especially you. Take a breath, please,” Liam requested softly. Louis only then realized he was almost not breathing, just exhaling slowly. He sucked in air, and his back expanded in relief.

“Sorry,” Louis muttered, letting his eyes drift to the open window overlooking London. The view was magnificent from up so high, and the city noises only entered the apartment in quiet hums of voices and honks. It served as a nice buffer for the heaviness in the room.

“The last thing he texted was from this morning,” Liam turned his phone screen to show Louis.

**_Let me know if there’s anything I can do._ **

It hurt. It sent a horrible pang of deep and ugly guilt through his system. He looked away as if the phone had offended him. He brought his hands up to his face, the sleeves of his jumper, creating a cocoon of fabric around his head.

“I have to tell him, don’t I?”

A few clothes rustling, Liam probably uncrossing and crossing his other leg before, “Yeah, I think you should.”

Louis nodded quickly, to show he was on-board with the idea. Even if his stomach turned into a million knots and his heartbeat sped up by a tenfold, “Right.”

“It’s not going to be easy, Lou, but I think he deserves the truth. Has he been honest with you?”

Louis scrunched his brow and bit his bottom lip as hard as he could without drawing blood. He remained hidden behind his jumper sleeves, before he ultimately nodded, “He has, yeah, more than I ever was.”

“That’s okay,” Liam soothed, letting his hand tap Louis’s arm where it was propped by his elbow on the table, “These things take time.”

He slowly lowered his hands from his face and looked straight at his best friend. The only one who’d been there since he’d been small enough to remember. The one who stuck around even when things got as ugly as they could’ve gotten.

“Thank you, Li. For doing this. All of this. You never have to, but you do it anyway.”

Liam smiled sheepish, fiddling with his Rolex, then looking back at Louis again, expression sincere. “I do, though, it’s what I’m here for. You’ve done the same for me too, so, what comes goes— and all that.”

Louis couldn’t help the small chuckle. A tiny smile broke on his face. At least Liam and him were a secure constant amidst the chaos. His chest felt fuller rather than hollow as long as Liam stood near him.

+

Fran emailed Louis the information for the trip to Barcelona, then instructed him to be there early so the crew wouldn’t hate him for making them wait.

As ordered, he arrived at the airport on time, then went through all the security procedures before he climbed on to Ferrari’s private jet, ready to go with Liam waiting inside. They sat together and talked mostly about their strategy for the upcoming race, Harry constantly staying at the back of his mind, never resting.

It’d been two days since it had all happened. Louis had tried to turn on his cellphone and check if Harry had texted him anything, but immediately he’d regretted it. As his phone had finished booting up, the first things that popped up were Twitter notifications; a thousand missed calls from Fran, two from his mum, and a few from Daisy and Lottie, then sixty unread texts, even more, Instagram notifications, and about twenty new emails. In the span of a _day_ with no phone. He’d sighed and gone through it all, leaving texts for last.

Lottie had texted him twice, asking if his phone had died, then if he was okay. There were some from Liam, hectic and hurried, begging him to answer his cell. The ball of guilt— which sat quietly in his gut, grew bigger.

His mum had texted once, letting him know Liam had called and told her anything she needed to know, and that she would wait until he was better to see his reply. He’d quickly called her and caught her up. She’d also agreed it was better if Harry knew, as hard as it would be to retell the story for the fifth time.

First to his mum, then to Liam, Niall, and Zayn, then to Fran and his older sisters a bit more hurried, and finally, to a judge that ruled Leonard to a sentence of six years in prison.

It hadn’t been easy the first four times. It probably wouldn’t be easy a fifth— or more specifically a fifth time told to Harry.

He let out a loud sigh, which made Liam turn in his seat, looking at Louis with a knowing face.

“Are you going to be okay this weekend?”

Louis took a moment to actually consider his answer. Helen insisted it wasn’t right to just say he was fine because it automatically came into his head every time. She pushed him to be more elaborate in his response, more specifically to his best friend and mum.

“If I said yes, I’d be lying, right? I don’t know how he’ll take it. I hope I didn’t hurt him enough to make him hate me, y’ know?” Louis’s stomach turned as the plane finally took off, but Liam remained unfazed as he seemed to weigh Louis’s answer.

“Well, I think it won’t be an easy chat. He said he loved you, and you ran out on him. It must’ve stung. But, I think he might understand where you came from if you explain it with full honesty, no barriers or walls— just you opening up.”

Louis nodded in understanding, sucking into his teeth once the plane leveled down to a normal angle in the air.

“Do you think you’ll ever get there, though? To a place where you can say it back?” Liam’s voice was loud enough so that only Louis could hear the other three mechanics on board too distracted on their paperwork and laptops.

Louis rubbed his temple in a small way to soothe the anxiety blooming in his stomach. “I- I don’t know,” Was all he could manage. He believed it wouldn’t be truthful if he tried to say it at that point in his life. There’d been too much pain and agony wrapped around that sentence. Louis did not feel he would be fair to Harry if he blatantly lied about something so precious.

“I reckon he’ll take it well, mate. He’s a nice lad. He doesn’t look like the type to let go of a good thing that easily, yeah? I think he’ll stick around a looong time,” Liam said ‘long time’ in an American cowboy accent, which robbed another chuckle from Louis.

He could only hope it was true, though— that Harry would stick around a long time after that moment had passed.

+

When they finally entered the paddock, Louis couldn’t help but feel, for the first time, like his red shirt was too striking. He managed to quickly put on a plain black hoodie over it, but it did not change the fact that Harry could be able to recognize him even if we wore an invisibility cloak.

Liam stayed at his side as they went through the motions. Signing in, getting weighed, reading their schedules, and interview times. They had training, simulators, Practice 1, 2, and 3, then Quali on Saturday, and the race on Sunday bright and early. They had a small photo shoot for a magazine article on Saturday afternoon, a post quali and race wrap up meeting, a lunch on Friday for the Spanish Ferrari ambassadors, and last, but certainly not least, Louis had to talk with Harry once everything else was done. His stomach kept turning as he remembered. He also hadn’t seen Harry yet. He wasn’t sure if he would be okay with seeing him and coming out in one piece afterward.

“Let’s go, interviews start in 20,” Liam called further down the paddock.

Louis adjusted the red cap with his number and name and braced himself for the rest of the day.

+

Most of the week passed by in a blur of training and driving. Practice 1 and 2 ended up being better than they’d planned for the weekend in Catalunya, but as Louis had begun driving for Practice 3, he’d immediately felt there was something off about the car. They had Qualifying ahead in less than two hours, and the mechanics didn’t understand exactly where to start or to look for the specific problem Louis felt.

“Is it that understeer at turn 5?” Ben asked with a stressed set in his brow. He’d been pacing back and forth, attempting to figure out the problem. Louis could sympathize. They’d been doing so well all week long. It was too late for car problems.

“I wish, mate. It’s this lack of momentum after the tight corners. The car’s not keeping up. At the pace we’re going, we’d be lucky to end up in the points at all. It’s engine related for sure. I was trying everything with the pedal, but the car won’t budge,” All the principal mechanics and engineers were huddled around Louis, listening intently. After all, computers could only take them so far before a driver had to step in and help out.

“So we’ll have to open her up and look at the engine. Sit P3 out, rest up for quali,” Ben tapped him lightly on the back and disappeared quickly around a corner, talking fast with another engineer before Louis could respond.

His phone pinged with a new text in the counter near the car. The different machines working the car were deafening and headache-inducing, so Louis quickly picked his cellphone and walked out of the garage and to the back, along the paddock line, filled everywhere with TVs showing different angles of the action on the track.

Currently, it showed Liam zooming past the finish line and marking the fastest lap of the practice session. Gemma was right on his tail with a few hundredths of a second to go before she got back the title.

Louis diverted his gaze from the TV and noticed Wesley beckoning him to the little room he had set up for the weekend. Louis groaned to the sky and attempted to look like he hadn’t seen Wesley at the far side of the paddock.

His phone then began to ring incessantly, and he had no other choice but to pick up.

“Please, I’m begging you, let me off this _one_ time,” Louis begged into the phone, looking at Wesley, who was looking menacingly back at him. He still beckoned him toward the room.

“Keep dreaming. This is my one job in Formula 1, Louis, you’re not taking it away from me. Also, it’s against the rules to just skip physical therapy for an injury, so you’ve really got no choice but to come here and do your bloody exercise for Christ’s sake.”

Louis groaned one more time but still forced himself to head toward Wesley without any further negotiation, seeing as the dick stain wouldn’t budge anyway. “You fucking suck Wes, I can’t stand you.”

“You’ve said it enough that I could care less honestly. Now, move it, I’ve got better things to do than this,” He said as cockily as possible and swiftly hung up. Louis looked on at him with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. Wesley cackled and went into his office.

“Okay today’s session will be rougher. No cussing, no hitting, and no cursing me with dark spells. This is for your own good.”

Louis grimaced as he laid down in the table, cursing the day he’d crashed his damned car into the damned barrier. “Great.”

“Deep breaths, remember. We don’t have H here to remind you so, let’s work through it.”

Louis felt his stomach sink further down into his body, but nevertheless nodded, attempting to disguise a façade of calm understanding, “Yeah.”

“What happened to him, anyway? Hasn’t he arrived yet?” Wesley asked ten minutes later once they’d done the first round of warm-ups. Louis dreaded the answer as much as he dreaded the next steps of the session. He let his eyes close as Wes stretched his leg down, then pulled it tightly toward him. It helped that his eyes were suspiciously misty.

“We need to work through some stuff, Harry and I. I’m not actually sure if he’s come in already,” Louis admitted, and thanked the sky his voice did not fail him. His throat flexed uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

Wes continued the main exercises, and Louis winced a couple of times, but aside from that, he got through the session in one piece, if a little sore. He suspected Wesley had gone easier on him than normal.

+

“We’ve got two minutes to go, Louis, two minutes for the checkered flag.”

Louis clicked his ‘Copy’ button on the steering and continued down the main straight toward his second to last lap.

Gemma had been steadily crossing the line four to five thousands of a second behind Louis, and he was sure that if he wavered in any corner ever so slightly, she’d be leaving him in the dust and in P2 pretty soon.

“Keep me posted on Gemma’s times,” Louis requested briefly as his whole body shook with the 6G force around him and the car. He continued down turns 5, 6, and 7 flawlessly, then turn ten came around and chastised himself for the poor apex entrance that cost him those milliseconds to Gemma.

Crossing the line, Ben narrated that he was two-tenths of a second behind Gemma and that his last lap had to be better than flawless and fast to get to P1.

Louis tried his best to regain the position, but as the main straight came up in their last lap of Quali, it was clear that Gemma would be starting in pole position, and Louis close by in second.

“Nice work, guys, thanks for the help. Really appreciate it,” Louis said less tense into the mic.

A few claps and cheers were heard in the background, and then Ben’s voice appeared in his ear, “Well done, Lou, great driving today. Very happy with the results, mate.”

+

After Quali, most racers left to their hotels, eager to rest and prepare for the race tomorrow.

Louis stuck around the garage to help find the continuing problem in his car and finally got back to the hotel late enough to take a shower and sleep away until the madness started up again the next day.

As he climbed into an empty elevator, the doors began to slide closed. As they did, Louis had enough time to look up in between the metal doors, to spot Harry clad in an all-black outfit, heading for the main reception area.

His heart slammed harshly against his chest, and he felt his eyes widen in realization. He had the same suitcase he’d carried with him to all previous Grands Prix, a neon orange beanie covering most of his curly head, bags under his eyes, and pale white skin that looked more tired than lively.

Louis did not get to see much else as the doors closed immediately afterward. He hadn’t seen Louis, but Louis had seen him. It didn’t feel fair.

The ride up was Louis staring blankly at the same elevator doors in absolute shock.

He hadn’t expected to react the way he did, but at least he was now sure that Harry was in Spain just in time for the race tomorrow. His heart then fluttered a thousand times faster, thinking of spotting Harry around the paddock before the race or at the starting line right next to his car. He took a deep breath and reminded himself to breathe. Harry’s voice echoed in his head, not painful like most of his past memories. _Breathe for me, Lou. Breathe._

He managed to keep breathing as the lift arrived at his floor, and as he shakily slid the key card into the door. He rolled down the adjacent wall until he felt sane enough to process what he’d just seen.

Harry was finally in Spain. He looked tired, sad, and pale. Louis imagined it had to do with the perpetual cloudy days that England normally offered. He also looked as handsome and wonderful as he’d always looked. Louis’s hands involuntarily closed around the empty space before him. His body yearned to be close to him again, and there was nothing he could do to make it better. At least, not yet. 

Once his legs felt strong enough to hold him up again, he pushed himself off the floor in two quick movements. Then, a series of sounds outside his door made it clear that someone was arriving at the suite next to his own.

“ _… that’s great. Thank you so much for your help… you too.”_

His ears perked immediately, as he would’ve recognized the low baritone voice and the rumbly bass in his sleep.

_Harry. Was. In. The. Room. Next. To. His._

Louis managed to keep breathing as it all happened, then quickly found his phone to shoot Liam a text which he would probably see tomorrow morning.

_Fucking shit, H is in the room next to mine, Li. What the fuck._

He nervously bit his lip as he waited for a reply. After a minute passed, he considered calling Zayn — aka, the light sleeper of the relationship — to make them switch rooms with him.

Suddenly his cell pinged with a new text, and he almost flipped his shit while silencing it. Another thing that could sell him was the fact that his text notifications had the oddest sound his iPhone had. Harry had laughed about it once. Louis prayed he’d forgotten already.

Standing in deadly silence in the middle of his hotel room, Louis waited to see if Harry had heard, but then a few movements and shuffles on the other side of the wall assured him he was probably busy and couldn’t have noticed.

**_meant to be m8, ltm me slfeep_ **

Louis scoffed but then noticed the clock read 1 AM and winced with guilt.

He resolved to accept his fate and quickly took a shower, trying to make himself as relaxed as possible in order to get even a wink of sleep before the race. He’d be of no use tired and stressed.

After he was done and finally in bed, sleep reached him only after another hour of tossing and turning.

It would’ve come faster had he stopped incessantly reaching for a dumb image he’d painted in his mind, of Harry laying in the bed parallel to him, probably on the same side, sound asleep, his face free of any worried wrinkles or frown. He always looked five years younger when he slept, serene and at peace somewhere far away. He let his hand close around the bedsheets but forbid himself from crying anymore. He didn’t deserve the countless pity sessions he’d given himself lately, and he would not sink pathetically into the bed while Harry was the heartbroken one a room away.

So, the night passed in a blur of restless darkness— the most clinical form of sleep. His alarm went off bright and early for the warm-up session at nine and the three interviews until 1 PM before the race.

Louis made sure to listen intently to the hallway sounds, in case Harry was also leaving his room. Once he was sure there wasn’t a single soul outside, he grabbed his keys, wallet, and cellphone before closing his suite door behind him.

He beelined for the lifts and anxiously waited until one of the three sets of doors opened. With no one inside, he made quick work of stepping in and closing the doors behind him. Just as they were almost sliding closed— and as if the universe enjoyed a good laugh— Harry’s frame appeared between the slabs _again,_ and Louis only had time to process that they’d missed each other by a few second margin— except then, Harry successfully looked up to spot Louis too, and his eyes widened with recognition before the doors closed completely.

Once the elevator began to move down, he let out a heavy breath he’d been holding.

_Holy shit._

He looked wonderful again too. He was wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt; the first three buttons opened, so his chest was slightly visible. His hair looked as stylish as it always was, and his clean-shaven, perfectly sculpted jawline made Louis almost drop to the floor right there and then. For the second time that day, they’d almost crossed paths, but Louis was sure a bigger entity had been at play rather than a mere case of multiple coincidences.

With a breath of sad relief, Louis made his way toward the entrance, signing autographs for fans, and letting the two paps waiting outside linger around him until he reached his car. After the race, hopefully, everything would be better with Harry. It had to be.

+

Forty laps down at the Spanish Grand Prix had people in the grandstands cheering Ferrari on. The sea of red flags, shirts, caps, and signs made up all of the Tifosi eagerly watching Louis’s car doing faster laps the longer the race went on.

Gemma was just as good as she’d been in quali, only two seconds behind Louis after every corner. Mercedes dominated straights, Ferrari the curves. Louis used the advantage to outdo himself in the tighter corners, while he watched car number 9 fade back further the easier he managed to enter the apex.

“We’re good on tyres for ten more laps, then we’ll pit for the hards, as planned,” Ben announced calmly.

“Okay, these feel good for now, though. How is the wear?”

“Forty percent on all but the left rear, it’s dropping just slightly faster at thirty-five percent. Keep it up. Twenty-six laps to go.”

Louis pushed the ‘Copy’ button and maneuvered easily through corner 5. For the next seven laps, nothing much changed except that Gemma almost overtook him with DRS activated. He managed to defend his position and quickly widened their gap, knowing it would be more comfortable if she wasn’t constantly on his tail.

“Okay Louis, we’ve got to pit now, tyre pressure went down significantly in the last lap, you’ll just need a lap to overtake car nine once it passes us in the pits. Box this lap.”

Louis would’ve argued the tyres still felt steady enough, but he knew from experience that while they felt right then, another lap would probably give him killer understeer or a promised DNF.

“Right, okay.”

Then turn ten came up, and the rear tyres were gone instantly, in a second.

His car’s speed went into the barrier to his right at 300 km/h. The side of the car went first before the full force pulled it to face the barrier straight on. From there, Louis only had time to notice one of his wheels bounce off its socket and almost go straight for his head before the halo around the car managed to keep it away, bouncing it off immediately. As it happened the first time, three months before, his front wing laid somewhere in the gravel to his left, and most of the car was gone at the front. His same left foot had smarted at some point during the crash, and now it was significantly more painful than it’d been before. His neck and chest were already beginning to feel sore.

The one thing he could register was the high-pitched ringing in his left ear. He was processing the fact that his head had slammed viciously against the sides of the car. The worn barrier before him multiplied and tripled a few times in his vision.

“…Louis, are you okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He replied suddenly, once he realized it’d been a significant amount of time since he’d first moved.

“Sorry. For the race,” Louis said too slowly, and his head kept buzzing with the shock of the crash. He felt underwater. Ben’s voice was going off in his ear, but the blinking spots in his eyes made him frown deeply.

“…about that. So long as you’re okay, it’s all good,” Ben said, sounding relieved. Far away. 

He would’ve said something, but he felt weightless, too much distance to respond.

His body operated in auto-pilot as he shut the car off and removed the protective barrier over his shoulders. A marshal approached the car in all orange. The rest linked arms, facing away from Louis, creating the human wall. He sighed once. The ringing continued.

“Can you hear me, Louis?” Asked one of the marshals.

His foot was beating with more pain than the previous crash had caused. He remembered he’d been asked a question. “Hmm,” he managed. His eyes felt heavy, as heavy as they did back in London when he’d cried through the night. Harry.

Marshals were at the scene in a second, and one of them helped him out to the safety car slowly. Another marshal held him by the shoulder and limping; he reached the medical car in one piece. His pulse echoed too loud in his ears. The helmet wasn’t helping.

He sighed, head almost disconnected. It’d been a big crash.

“You okay, Louis?” Asked the aid inside the car with a worried tilt in his eye. He sounded far away.

“Hmm,” He said faintly, his mind blanking quickly. He managed to unfasten the security belt around his neck, loosening the helmet instantly. It took too much effort to pull it out himself, though, so he gave up, only managing to pull the visor up, getting a brighter view.

He felt like closing his eyes for a second. The aid said something into the intercom in his shoulder pad, then looked at Louis through his rearview mirror. The sounds of the crowd outside sounded so far away.

“We’ll be there in 2 minutes. Hang in there,” Came the aid’s voice in slow waves. He blinked a few times. Stay alert. Don’t sleep yet. Be smart.

Reaching the pit lane, his ears rang loud in his head; he was quickly escorted through a few doors, almost being dragged by his feet. His hands shook, though it almost felt as if they weren’t his hands.

He was helped on to a table covered in a white cloth. The air smelled of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant, but it barely helped his mind stay awake. His stomach turned as he thought about his mum and siblings. He hoped they wouldn’t be too scared. He was fine. Somebody had to tell them that.

Harry.

“Louis, can you hear me?” Said somebody, still far away.

“Y-yeah,” He managed, then a light shone brightly into his eye. The light looked like the sun, shining far away while he laid at the bottom of a deep pool. His vision wavered. Was he okay?

“Louis, how many fingers do I have up?” The same person asked, clinically calm.

He wondered how many, but his mind was trapped in a sort of loop. The crash had been too sudden. Maybe his neck had taken a hit. Nothing felt right.

“Three,” He managed, slowly processing the gloved hand before him. He really needed to sleep.

“Don’t sleep yet, Louis, we need to know if your heads okay, hold on a little longer,” The voice— no, the _doctor_ said. He knew it was a doctor. Focus, Louis.

“Okay,” He replied slowly after what felt like hours.

Rustling, movement, metal against metal, shoes were scuffling on the floor. He really needed a quick nap.

“No, Louis, stay with us, don’t fall asleep yet,” The doctor ordered loudly— too loud, it made him alert. He blinked. Bright white light shone straight into his eyes. He scrunched his eyes away.

Something was happening in his arm, but his body wasn’t totally connected to his head, so he couldn’t be sure what it was. At least it didn’t hurt. His foot didn’t hurt either.

He heard far away screaming, but he couldn’t discern the voice. Everything was underwater.

“Okay Louis, it’s safe to sleep now. Rest up.”

He felt a weight lift from him as he finally closed his eyes and let his body sink as far down as it could manage. Harry.


	15. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeew, 6.5K update! It's been so long since I updated this story, but I don't have the heart to ever abandon it, so, even if it takes me forever and a day I'll finish it either way. If you're still here, thank you for sticking along for so long, I hope you keep the faith. I'll try to update ch 16. as soon as possible. If you have any suggestions, or things you'd like to see in the story, let me know! As always, lots of love, and I hope you had a wonderful new years day! x
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains a section talking about physical and domestic abuse, for your convenience, I'll place a (*) where this part starts and ends. Thank you!

Harry…

Harry.

“Harry.”

His voice sounded worn but louder. Everything sounded clearer than it’d been before he’d fallen asleep. Had he fallen asleep?

“Lou? Someone asked shakily to his right. He’d recognize the voice anywhere.

Louis slowly opened his eyes, the blinding lights on the infirmary’s ceiling, giving him a pounding headache. He winced tightly before they dimmed significantly. He kept blinking until his eyes adjusted.

A faint ringing in his left ear increased with every sudden movement. He grimaced.

“Lou, you’re awake, oh my god,” Harry’s deep voice came as a welcome sound, almost drowning out the ringing, the headache, the sore spots in his body.

“What happened?” He asked shortly; his voice felt unused. It couldn’t have been that long.

“You crashed at turn ten and got a mild concussion. It’s been five hours,” Harry replied, and he didn’t sound okay. He spoke as if he’d been crying.

Louis kept blinking faster, eager to see Harry’s beautiful eyes. Anything from him would probably cure the pain a thousand times faster.

What felt like hours later, he managed to fully open his eyes and turn his head, very slowly.

Sitting in a chair adjacent to the table in the infirmary sat Harry. His black suit was discarded on a counter to his left, and his white shirt was untucked at the front, one more button unbuttoned. His hair looked as if he’d ran his fingers through it a hundred times, and his eyes were bloodshot red, his skin pale white. Louis sighed painfully, it hurt to cry or breathe, but he was doing both.

“I’ve missed you, so much Haz,” Louis said, feeling a single tear slide down the side of his cheek. Harry’s eyes closed tight, and his nose flared, red at the tip, looking as if he’d recently cried.

“I’ve missed you too. That crash scared everyone shitless,” He managed, voice broken. Louis’s own throat tightened, but he fought against the sob in favor of keeping his ribcage from breaking.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Louis felt more tears roll down and reach his ear. Some were pooled in his eyes. He breathed softly.

Harry shook his head vigorously, his face scrunching sadly. His warm, wide palm stretched to caress Louis’s tear tracks, cleaning them from his cheek. Harry let his other hand squeeze hard, which made Louis realize he was holding his left hand. He couldn’t help the pull at his lips, despite the tears in his eyes. He always felt better with Harry around.

“Don’t apologize, okay? I freaked you out; I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve known. I just hate the thought that—” He sniffled, and a tear rolled down his cheek, “The thought that what happened distracted you in the race. If I did, I just—”

Louis pulled suddenly at his hands, “Harry, no. Please, don’t. That’s just— it’s ridiculous. You could never have caused it. The car failed. I tried to prevent it, but it was not your fault. It could never be,” He could hear his voice, the softness and the honesty. He hoped Harry could hear it too. “Please, believe me.”

Harry was quiet. His eyes were downcast, staring at the floor under the table. His dark eyelashes were wet with tears, his face the epitome of sadness. Louis was desperate to make him believe he couldn’t be at fault. Louis felt both of Harry’s hands try to pull from him, but he only gripped tighter.

“What can I do to make you believe me?” He croaked, voice tired.

Harry shook his head softly, then looked tenderly at Louis. His thumb rubbed lightly against his cheekbone. His green eyes were also full of warmth— Louis almost kissed him then. “You should rest. They’re bringing a chair to take you to the car. Liam also texted that he was on his way back. He made sure to tell your mum.”

Louis nodded, chest feeling heavier with every breath, “Wait, wait. Don’t let this go, okay? I need to tell you everything. I need to tell you what happened in London,” Louis pleaded. The last thing he needed was Harry believing he had to forgive and forget because Louis had gotten hurt. He needed to know _everything_ if they ever wanted to move forward from that. “Okay?”

Harry took a beat, then nodded wearily, “Okay.”

He moved his head to a better angle, feeling appeased for the time being. Then the beating pulse in the back of his skull magnified, and he grimaced. He felt like a thousand headaches had queued up in his brain, “Ah, fuck.”

Harry started, “Hey, hey, hey, don’t move yet. The nurse said they just set up another drip to take to the hotel with you,” He pulled his hands from Louis’s to press his wide palm to his chest, his fingers almost gripping the skin under his red racing shirt. Louis sighed and made a noise of agreement, heart fluttering just slightly.

Harry removed his hand, seeming embarrassed, “Liam offered to drive you to an emergency room, but the Doctor insisted you shouldn’t move for the time being. The drip will make you sleepy so, I um— I volunteered to stay with you. In your hotel room, that is. Is that okay? Cause Liam told me to let him know. He said he could do it himself until your mom got here if you didn’t um— if you didn’t want me there,” His hand rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.

Louis’s stomach burned bright; he clenched his hand helplessly. He wished he had the strength to hold Harry close to him. “I would love that, actually. But, don’t you mind seeing the ugly bits?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, seeming genuinely confused. Louis hesitated.

“I mean, concussions can be ugly when the heavy drugs wear off. It’s a lot of throwing up and sleeping,” He said sheepishly.

Harry shrugged, “I really don’t mind it.”

“Oh,” He said, surprised. No one he’d ever liked had ever taken care of him before. He thought it odd Harry had no problem dealing with throwing up and sleepless nights. Then again, there were many things he hadn’t learned about Harry yet. “I— thank you, Haz.”

+

The drive to the hotel went as smoothly as it could’ve gone. Liam had come in and made sure he was alright to move, then helped Harry take him to the Mercedes parked right by the medical center's exit door.

On the way, Louis felt queasy but stable enough to make it up to his suite. Harry pushed him along in the wheelchair, and Louis tried his best to close his eyes and ignore any looks he got in the hotel lobby. Harry seemed to have a killer glare, though, as everyone who stared for too long immediately turned away as they met Harry’s gaze.

“Thank you, again,” Louis muttered as Harry helped him lay down in his king-sized bed.

Harry chuckled softly, “Stop thanking me. I’m not here by force.”

“Still,” Louis shrugged but found he had no drive to keep arguing any further about it. His eyes were droopy and tired. Also, too heavy to move.

“Sleep now; I’ll make sure to run you a bath later, yeah?” Harry’s deep voice sunk him very suddenly.

“Mhm.”

+

The rest of the evening went by in a mess of blurry sounds and movement. The painkillers and IV sent Louis into a wave of confused haziness.

He woke up from his nap to a wavering view of what was supposed to be his hotel room. Sounds were delayed, and his body was numb enough to weigh like a ton of bricks. Harry’s distinguishable low baritone rumble echoed far and close to his ear, but Louis could not discern what he was saying for the life of him.

“…want that _?”_ Harry’s voice came in through the fog. Louis frowned slowly, as if in slow motion. The veil of unconsciousness did not fall completely, and he attempted to let Harry know he was very out of it.

Instead, he managed to hear himself say, “...I’m lost.”

Harry’s voice spoke slower, and Louis was able to connect a few more words, “…you…like to take… bath… now… later?”

With every ounce of brainpower available to him then, he said, “Later, please.”

He actually promised to congratulate himself once he was more awake and less drugged; he’d even added a polite ‘please.’

A low chuckle so very familiar came from his right, and he almost felt a smile on his lips. Harry, Harry, Harry.

“More sleep then, yes?” Harry asked, far away. Louis would’ve been embarrassed had he been present at all. He could blame it all on the drugs later. His eyes were closed since the room kept spinning.

“Mmm,” Was all Louis managed. He really wished Harry could hold him, so there was some sort of anchor to reality. The bed underneath him was barely present against his skin. There was no proof that his body was certainly there in the hotel room. He seemed to shiver.

Then, what felt like a few hours later but might have been minutes, a warm body wrapped itself temptingly close to Louis. As he breathed in the smell of the person, Louis smiled softly, eyes even heavier. Soft touches of vanilla on soft, smooth, warm skin—Harry Styles in the flesh.

“Better,” He whispered with the last bit of strength. Harry’s enormous hand combed his hair back, and sleep swallowed him under faster than he could manage to notice.

+

A sudden feeling of falling enveloped him too fast. “Harry,” He gasped awake, sitting up suddenly. 

“Yes, love,” Harry’s voice said suddenly in the next second, totally awake. He sounded as if he’d barely been sleeping.

Louis’s stomach turned slightly. As he let his vision adjust, he immediately saw that Harry was sitting up in the king-sized bed of Louis’s hotel room with no shirt on, black joggers hung low on his hips. Sleep-ridden eyes blinked fast as he scanned Louis for injuries or serious body-wounds.

“What is it, love? What’s wrong?” Harry asked groggily as he gradually began to wake up. His eyes became clearer as he seemed to quickly recall everything up to the last hour when he’d finally watched Louis rest for more than ten minutes without frowning or whimpering in his sleep.

Louis sat guilt-ridden, staring at a tired boy with a drooping eye, “I dreamt I was falling and instinctively said your name. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Louis apologized quickly, realizing that he’d scared Harry awake.

For the first time in a while, Harry did not respond immediately. Instead, he was sat watching Louis, with warm eyes but a sad curve in his mouth.

“Hey,” Harry spoke up firmly, placing Louis’s face gently between his hands, barely touching the skin, “I’m here to look after you. Nightmares are part of concussions,” His eyes were firmly staring into Louis’s, eager he follows along, “So don’t apologize again, okay?”

Louis’s eyes could not help but react. He was normally incredibly self-composed when Harry was around, but as fate had it, in that precise moment, too much was going on inside his body to keep up with his brain as well. His eyes widened just slightly, giving away his reaction. He hated to let people know how they affected him.

But it was Harry, too. Harry had a special pass. He’d been caught off-guard by the infinite sincerity from the boy before. It warmed his stomach then, his chest, his body.

“Alright.”

Harry had a pleased grin at the corner of his lips, and Louis felt okay for once, letting go of control with someone else in the room. “How are you feeling right now? Any nausea?” He asked next, letting his hand slide to Louis’s forehead, pressing his wide palm against the skin to feel his temperature. “You’re not warm, which is good. The doctor warned you could run a fever tonight if the hit was too much for your head.”

Louis only stared slightly dazed into Harry’s eyes.

There was this beautiful boy, sitting next to him in a hotel bed, feeling his forehead for a fever at four AM, worrying if he was sick in any way, and completely unbothered by the fact that he was losing precious sleep to take care of him. His heartbeat harshly against his chest, but it was a welcome feeling that he’d missed for too long. “Thank you,” was all he said in return.

Harry paused. The worried lines across his face fading just slightly. His lip pulled further into his cheek, and his eyes got as warm as they’d ever been. “If you thank me or apologize one more time, I’ll leave and never come back,” He said so fondly. Louis only smiled a dopey grin at him.

“Okay,” Louis replied quietly, having been chastised enough.

“Okay,” Harry laughed. “Do you want to sleep some more, or should we grab some fresh air instead?”

Louis would’ve shaken his head had it not been pounding incessantly. “Let’s just sleep a bit more,” He slurred. Adrenaline was leaving him fast, and suddenly the drugs were taking over once more. His eyes went heavy for the umpteenth time.

“Sleep sounds nice,” Harry said, amused. His hand wrapped completely across the back of Louis’s skull, and the other went softly against his chest. Louis was laying back down in one swift movement, and he had no idea how Harry had done that.  
  
“That was very smooth,” Louis mumbled with his last bit of energy— then sleep engulfed him. Rest followed him along with Harry’s soft chuckle as a lullaby in his ear.

He could get used to that.

+

“If any of you mother-hen me one more time, I swear to God, I will sue you into our next life together.”

Harry let out a heavy grunt, which sounded suspiciously like a disguised-laugh. Louis ignored him in favor of staring down (up?) at Lottie from the wheelchair the circuit had provided.

“You can’t blame us. This one was pretty bad, right?” Lottie asked, looking told-off from the side of the room. She was leaning against the wall with crossed arms and long perfectly-manicured nails. She looked too much like mum.

“It was Lots, but I’m _fine,_ it’s been four days. You’ve got to let me at least pour my own coffee now, yeah?” He stood and approached the counter with the coffee mug, half served. Harry eyed him with suspicion.

“Fine," Lottie replied between her teeth.

“So, it’s a family thing,” Harry whispered.

“What?” Lottie asked fast.

Harry just waved off the thought but smiled privately at Louis. Lottie shrugged. Louis chuckled quietly, drinking his decaf coffee.

“What a wonderful day, isn’t it?” Louis asked loudly, staring down at the Spanish streets busy with cars and normal daily life. Lottie groaned while Harry ignored him and continued reading the latest Vogue issue. “A wonderful day for mum to finally get down here and release me from this fancy prison so I can finally go racing again.”

“I will leave this hotel room and never look back,” Lottie warned while checking her nails against the sun coming through the window.

Harry smiled again but kept flipping the pages.

“I’ll call her right now. I will. Nobody can stop me. This is it; I’ll do it,” The room remained unbothered as Louis threatened them, cellphone in hand.

Then, the lock at the entrance went off, and suddenly the hotel room door swung open, revealing his mother seemingly busy trying to push the heavy door open.

“Mum,” Louis called as soon as he spotted her. Jo looked up, and instantly her features softened.

“Hi my love, had a nice day so far?”

“Umm… yeah sure,” Louis tried, while Harry snorted behind his magazine. Louis turned to glare at Harry’s outline in the love seat quickly.

“You’re a terrible bloody liar, you are,” His mum laughed, putting down the two bags of food she’d seemed to have bought on her trip out. “Did you—”

A sudden knock at the door made Louis turn with a frown, “Were we expecting anyone today?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry replied but stood up nevertheless, pointing for Louis to sit down and stop fussing. Louis obliged as he watched the boy’s figure almost float toward the door.

He was wearing a comfy black hoodie from the circuit’s merch stand with a giant F1 logo splattered across the back. His curls were messily arranged to look presentable enough while he wore the same old black jogging shorts he’d worn every day since Louis had first come into the room concussed. His face looked heavenly as always, and his wonderful legs were mouth-watering, muscled, and strong.

“Oh, Samuel,” Harry’s deep voice drifted from the entrance, and Louis’s ears perked immediately, “He’s here, yes,” His voice bit softly, with just enough strength to sound unafraid and even daring. A pause then, “I don’t know, let me check with him,” Harry said, then the door clicked shut, and Harry came back, bottom lip between his teeth.

Louis knew Harry tended to do that when he was thinking or stressed, but it did not change the fact that when he did it, Louis’s knees would tremble just so.

“What does he want?” Louis asked, despite his darkening thoughts.

“To speak with you, in private. About coming back for Monaco,” He seemed troubled as he repeated the message, eyes looking to Louis with worry. His mum scoffed.

“No. In his wildest bloody dreams.”

“Mum,” Louis cut in, looking at her with a pleading in his voice. “You know I have to go back. I _want_ to go back.”

The room was quiet. They all knew it, but Catalunya had been too close, so nobody could say much. Except for Jo. “I don’t want you to,” She said sadly.

Suddenly he was ten years old with a sprained ankle and a bruised elbow, standing at the side of the track with a crashed kart. His mum was kneeling to look at him with a blooming fear in her iris, regret in her brow, both hands holding the sides of his helmet looking into his visor. “ _You can’t do this to me, Lou,”_ She’d said then, holding him so close their hearts almost touched, “ _I could never see you go because of this.”_

“I know why you say that, mum, but I can’t just stop in the middle of the season. Especially since the doctors sent the all-clear,” Louis replied, staring at his mum then, a little older, but no different than the mum from the track by the crashed kart.

“I know, baby,” Jo nodded once and wrapped him tight in her embrace, their height difference not changing the fact that their hearts could still almost touch. “I just want you never to get hurt, y'know?” She said into his shoulder.

Louis laughed quietly but agreed, “Yeah, I get it.”

“Ok, let the bastard in; he’s always leaving a bad taste in the mouth, so we better move this along quick,” His mum told Harry, letting Louis off her arms. “Don’t do anything you’re not ready to do.”

He nodded and let her go as well, watching as Lottie and his mum retreated to the connecting living room and slid the doors closed behind them.

Harry reemerged from the hallway with Stello in tow— a frown in his brow forever indented into his forehead like an ugly wrinkle. Unlike him, Harry looked ethereal, his bright green eyes asking if Louis needed him to go or stay close by his side.

_Stay,_ he told Harry with a small smile. I _feel better when you’re near me,_ though he could not understand the last part, Harry chuckled warmly and walked straight to his side.

“Louis, hello. I would prefer this meeting to be just the two of us. Delicate matters to discuss and the like,” Samuel said while taking a seat by one of the two living room chairs perched near his bed, where Harry sat for most of the week while Louis slept the concussion away.

Louis shook his head, assertively, “I don’t mind Harry listening to all of it. I truly trust him more than anyone. He can stay.”

Samuel raised a frowning brow, almost glaring at Harry, but remained quiet whilst Louis sat on the adjacent chair to him, and Harry perched himself by the foot of the bed.

“While it would’ve been faster for someone on our legal team, or Ben himself to come here and have this talk. I opted instead to come myself, as I understand the crash from our last race was rather rougher on you than the car.”

Harry scoffed with a laugh but clenched his jaw tight, making his muscles protrude heavily. Louis did not complain. “Hm, yeah, I think so too,” Louis replied, almost amused by Samuel’s choice of wording. Of course, the cost of car repairs hurt him more.

“Therefore, I must personally make sure you are fit to come back to the track for Monaco. If you don’t feel up to the task, there’s always Andrew to fill in last minute. We must settle this now since race week is about to start up again in less than four days. So,” He prompted, gesturing with both hands to Louis, “what’s our verdict?”

Harry sighed louder and changed his sitting position. Louis could tell he was getting increasingly annoyed. He cleared his throat, “I have spoken with my physician, physiotherapist, and the track doctor. The three of them had a meeting regarding my recovery and estimated that one more day of rest is sufficient before I can return to the car for Monaco.”

Stello nodded, looking pleased despite the frown, “Very well, that’s good news Tomlinson, good news indeed,” His words came through gritted teeth, which he sucked on them noisily while staring down at Harry, who simply stared back with a bored expression. Louis smiled.

“I think so, too, yes.”

After discussing a few more matters regarding the car and the practice sessions, Samuel took his leave and retreated through the door, walking proudly the same way he came in.

Once the door shut behind him, Jo came first through the living room with a bittersweet look in her eyes. “My wonderful boy,” She cooed, hugging him tight to her once more, “You are too nice to that man. He’s so difficult to look at.”

Harry laughed loud, slapping a hand to his mouth, “No truer words were ever said, Jo.”

+

Later in the evening, as the sunset, Louis and Harry left the stuffy hotel room to head for the rooftop once more. They’d been having trips there since Louis had been good enough to walk without throwing up all his breakfast. The view from the top was magnificent, and Louis had mentioned falling in love with Spain very quickly from up there.

“Are you ever scared to go back?” Harry asked once they were laying side by side on a long lounge chair. Perks of being recognized by the manager brought unlimited access to the penthouse area. 

Louis hummed in consideration, “I don’t know. Maybe a few days before I have to go on the track, but as soon as I step into the garage, everything fades out. This sport is not for everybody, but when you’re in it for long enough, you learn to stop being scared.”

Harry stayed quiet as he seemed to think over Louis’s words. “Are the crashes scary then? Do you ever feel it’s too much to process?”

This one Louis knew the answer to. There was just something shifting in his stomach as he considered where the conversation could go. Liam’s ‘ _Better sooner rather than later,’_ echoed in his head like an annoying banging.

Louis nodded, “Bahrain was bad, and a few karting ones almost drove me away years ago. This one probably sticks right up there with last year’s, though, but I can’t tell you they were enough to make me quit. Most of my friends have never understood that. The probability of something going terribly wrong for a sport. A few even stopped speaking to me. Liam told me once it’s their way of not feeling guilty if something were to happen. I think it’s a load of bullshit, but who knows,” he shrugged.

“It scares me— the chances. Gemma grew up doing this, but I guess I was always too young to understand how dangerous racing is. By the time I was old enough to realize, Gemma had her one big crash in F2. It wasn’t even that bad, but it was a definitive wake-up call for all of us.”

“I understand better than anyone what that feeling’s like,” Louis chuckled, and Harry cracked a small smile.

He leaned closer as Harry continued gazing at the tiny dot stars between the clouds. His breathing was soft, and Louis did not want to change that. But, he knew there was no use avoiding the inevitable. Harry deserved an explanation for what happened. He deserved to know the whole story, so he could decide where to go from there. Louis’s whole body tensed as he sat back up, his stomach moving uncomfortably.

“I need to tell you why I ran out that night, Haz,” Louis said guiltily, looking away from the beautiful boy to stare at Barcelona’s moving streets. Harry sat up immediately.

“You know I couldn’t care less about that now,” He replied quickly, sounding so very earnest Louis’s heart shrunk.

“I know. But, it wasn’t right, and you do deserve to know everything. If we’re ever going to...” Louis rubbed his clammy hands against his joggers, heart racing faster, “... to give this a chance, I have to say everything. Like you did for me,” Louis turned to face Harry then, despite all his fears. The boy only stared back at him with sad eyes, a hopeful glint somewhere.

“You know I’d never judge you, right?” Harry asked, frowning. His eyes burned intently into Louis, filling him with the last drop of courage he needed.

“I know you’re probably one of the few who would never Haz,” Louis could not help the tiny drop that filled his eye, the watery gaze making Harry seem to glow with the back lights. “Don’t say anything until I’m done, okay? I don’t know if I’ll stay whole if I stop talking for too long.”

Harry nodded with a growing worry, his frown deepening over his porcelain-white skin, “Okay.”

Louis’s heart braced, “I was with someone a month before we met at the gala. A three year-relationship. His name was Leonard Holland, and he worked for Renault. We met after bumping into each other,” His eyes closed as he recalled everything, perhaps for the last time. The wind blew softly into his face, soothing the anxiety. “He congratulated me after a race, asked me out— I said yes immediately. I was young, recently out, and ready to have the ‘perfect life,’” He chuckled, looking at the twinkling sky, “I was also innocent and naive, and I didn’t know any better. I called him my boyfriend a month after we met. He liked me, I liked him, nothing could go wrong,” Louis’s voice seemed to dim and crackle, but he paid it no mind. He’d cried enough already.

“For a year, things were wonderful. He would bring me flowers after a podium and assure me when I lost. He was funny, charming, and he would always hug me after a fight. How could I ever see it coming?” Louis chuckled bitterly, “A year went by faster than I expected, and suddenly, Leonard had a problem at work,” Louis looked away, finding it easier to face the wall, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to remain in one piece. “He defended me when people from his team made some comments about me. They were homophobic, and apparently, Leonard lost his temper and went off on them. He hit one of his colleagues and was almost fired. People at his job began to assume we were together. It made sense; Leonard had been spotted a few times walking with me to the track. Sometimes we would be caught arriving together.”

*****

Louis stopped to give himself time to breathe in the air. His lungs felt heavier, but his heart knew he could not take too long or else the courage would leave him like water in a broken dam. “Suddenly, things weren’t perfect anymore. He hated going to work, but he’d always loved his job. He could not stand the fact that people knew he was gay and that he was with me. Fights began to become close in time. Some were smaller than others. One night, he was blackout drunk; he had a fat lip and a cut by his eye. I got worried, so I went to look at him. He immediately swung for my face— no warning. I almost lost a tooth from the force. He apologized for hours, explaining he’d seen someone else, and hadn’t recognized me,” Louis wiped a tiny tear by the side of his cheek, the wall still looking back at him. “I let it go. I understood he’d made a mistake. Then a week later, we fought, and he threw a glass bottle. The glass cut a few times into the back of my arm, but I believed him when he promised it’d been an accident.”

“Every single time, he’d either blame the drinks or swear he hadn’t meant to hurt me. I believed him every time. But, one day, he aimed straight at me, and I knew there was no way he could’ve done that by accident. I felt so stupid, so embarrassed. I told no one because I was ashamed, humiliated. I never said anything because I truly thought I had everything under control. I never thought things could go as far as they went. By the time I finally escaped from him, things had gone so horribly bad I would flinch whenever anyone touched me or spoke too loud. I ran to Liam’s for help, and then everything else happened too fast to remember.”

The deafening silence as he finished the story almost drowned him in his own body. He almost didn’t dare to turn and look at Harry for fear he would think him an idiot for getting himself into a situation like that. “That’s why,” He swallowed the lump at the back of his throat, “That’s why I ran out in London. Leonard would always use those words to reel me in. He would fix my cuts and bruises and whisper he loved me over and over. I fell into a trance every time I believed him so deeply. I had countless nightmares when it ended,” Louis wiped a few start tears from his cheek, impressing himself by finding he was better than he imagined he would feel. “I was so terrified last year when the trial dragged longer and longer. I would wake up screaming, scared he’d be coming for me for telling the police. Liam slept over most nights, but therapy saved me from making him move in permanently. My three friends really saved my life,” He sniffled, but otherwise, he was fine. He took a deep breath, slowly the pressure at the back of his neck receding. The metaphorical weight on his shoulders trickled down to the floor in heavy waves.

*****

“Louis,” Harry said with a shaky voice. It thrashed at his heartstrings, and he turned to admire a bloodshot, runny nose Harry with a few tear tracks down his cheeks, his hair endearingly disheveled. He looked as wonderful as ever. “Do you understand how much I care for you?” He asked softly, a hand stretching across the lounge chairs and the infinite space that seemed to sit between them. Harry’s hand entered Louis’s protective bubble, and he sighed a breath of relief as his soft palm and callused fingers caressed gently against his cheek. “I hope you know Lou. I hope you realize the immense pride and relief I feel when I look at you. I can’t imagine how brave you had to be to survive that.”

Louis could feel the blood rush fast up his cheeks, but he willed his pulse to simmer down, looking into Harry’s green green eyes. His eyes were suddenly more watery than before, but he trusted it had more to do with the man’s face before him. “Thank you for not running away,” Louis chuckled.

Harry smiled with a sad curve in his brow, “You never owed me this, love, do you know that? You never needed to relive the pain to keep me close. I am already here. I’m not going anywhere unless you say the word.”

Louis nodded against Harry’s massive hand, “I know. It didn’t feel right to drag you along with my baggage if you weren’t completely aware of everything. It felt like placing too much on you. I felt this was best.”

“I’m glad that waste of space is locked up for good, but more than anything,” Harry leaned closer slowly, waiting for Louis to place any sort of boundary. Louis shook his head and leaned closer as well, until their mouths could almost touch, “I’m glad you’ve maintained that wonderful light I saw in you since a year ago. You could’ve given up, and it would’ve been completely understandable. But you— my wonderful, beautiful Louis— survived that. You did not let this be the thing that destroyed you, and for that, I am so very proud of you. I am proud of you, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry’s nose bumped Louis’s own, and he could not help the massive smile that spread across his cheeks. “You’ll never understand how much I care for you.”

Louis felt his face warm up suddenly and closed his eyes to avoid Harry’s burning eyes, “I’m beginning to.”

The rest of the night they spent laying next to each other on a single lounge chair, both of them squeezed tight together, speaking in soft voices about the future, the races to come, and where they would go from there.

They decided that there was no reason not to start telling people they were officially together. Anything they had not discussed then, they could discuss whenever the situation arose.  
  
Once they both began to feel the biting wind pick up speed, they retired all wrapped up in Harry’s jacket to Louis’s suite. No one was there by the time they came back down, and suddenly, Louis was looking at Harry looking back at him. The moon and a few street lamps were the only source of light coming into the space. A few rustles of the wind on the trees came in through the open balcony door.  
  
Louis dove right into Harry’s space and kissed him carelessly, desperate to have him as close as he could have him. Harry reciprocated immediately, his big hands pressing into the small of his back, lips wantonly grasping for more. Their breaths met in the middle; bodies pressed infinitely close together. Louis groaned with ecstasy and tugged quickly at Harry’s t-shirt, pulling at it annoyed.

“Off, off,” He murmured between kisses, lungs almost burning with the lack of oxygen, but he paid them no mind. Harry smiled into his mouth and pulled his shirt upward with one hand, the other still holding tightly on to Louis, which only caused his stomach to flutter irritatingly.

Quick disconnection of their mouth allowed Harry to remove his shirt, and suddenly they’d landed to the bed, and a dazing movement of limbs had them tangled close to each other, Harry gasping by his neck. “What do you want, Louis?” Harry asked softly.

“Everything,” Louis replied out of breath. He found Harry’s face and cupped it between his hands, brushing some hair out from his perfectly symmetrical face, “Anything with you.”

Harry smiled a small watery smile, and Louis almost melted from endearment, both they both soldiered on.

For the rest of the night, Louis let Harry lay him out so carefully it almost made him cry a few times. Asking his boundaries as they went, sometimes Louis could not believe the man before him was real. Sweet nothings, lustful grunts, and moans, nothing was left behind as Harry watched Louis feel the utmost pleasure. Louis, in turn, watched Harry contract with bliss, his mouth wrapped surely around his cock. A few times, they laughed from elation, Harry not believing they’d finally had sex, while Louis processed he’d made it far enough to be comfortable with someone in his most vulnerable state.

Whatever stars had aligned to form a straight line toward Harry, Louis could not help but thank them eternally, for he’d never felt so full of everything he’d missed before. Leonard had never made sure he was okay; he would’ve never kissed him so passionately or looked at him like there was nobody else in the world.

After they were both spent, breathing loud next to each other, Louis laughed softly.

“What?” Harry asked with a smile, turning to look at his profile. One hand reached out and traced a line through his forehead, down to the tip of his chin. Louis turned his head slightly to stare at Harry through half-lidded eyes.

“I’ve never been as happy as I am right now.”

“I love you,” Harry whispered.

Louis let his eyes close, the breeze of the Spanish city curling up their toes. He instinctively tucked his feet between Harry’s legs, “Say it again, please.”

“I love you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis laid on his side, facing Harry completely, “One more time,” His heart sped up suddenly, feeling hot all over. His hands tingled to reach for Harry.

“I love you forever,” Harry whispered, his earnest eyes burning holes into Louis.

“I love you too,” Louis replied finally. His chest contracted and expanded, blood rushing everywhere faster. His breaths were just coming in while the world around him kept spinning. The city kept moving through traffic, and people kept yelling somewhere not too far away. Everything stood still in their world. HarryandLouis.

Harry’s sharp, controlled gasp made Louis almost laugh. His eyes went suspiciously glassy. “Really?”

He nodded, never as sure of anything before, “I love you, to the moon and back, Haz.”

As if they’d rehearsed it a hundred times, both of their arms reached for the other, and in the middle, their lips met for a deep kiss.

Later in the night, wrapped in a sleeping Harry's arms, Louis laid awake for a little longer. He thought about the last three months, and how he would’ve laughed in Spain back then if they would’ve told him, he was Harry’s boyfriend now. So much had changed and happened, and he wouldn’t ever change it for the world. He could not believe his luck, his godsend… boyfriend. He almost giggled with joy. A boyfriend. A good, kind, nice, caring, loving boyfriend. There were no words.

Sleep took him then; his chest was lighter than it’d been in five years with Harry wrapped around him, his walking solace.


	16. XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a 12.1k word update? Yes. Have I gone insane? Probably. 
> 
> I love writing this book, and I love it whenever I find a new comment on my feed, it truly made me to write so much this time. I thank each and every one of you who read my story whenever I update and then take the time to tell me your thoughts and opinions. I can't keep writing unless I know at least one person's enjoying it. If there's anything you wish to see in Harry and Louis's future for this novel, please let me know in the comments! Leave some kudos if you enjoy, and as always, happy reading!
> 
> P.S: As a very sad side-note, my wonderful dog 'Nena' is ten-years-old and very sick. We don't think she'll make it, so, if I suddenly disappear, please trust that I'll come back eventually. Who knows? I'll probably find solace in writing and update more often than normal, but maybe I'll stop for a while and then come back. Either way, I hope anyone out there reading this keeps the faith. I will be back as soon as I can!
> 
> Lots of love x

Louis stirred awake, slowly, and the usual dread that dressed his body every morning was nowhere to be found. Beside him, a soft breathing sound would come in, then out, in, and then out. Rustling fabric, a soft mewling sound, then silence again. Louis opened his eyes slowly and met almost total darkness around him. Sun was trying to peek through the blackout curtains, but not much of it made it in. His eyes, adjusted to the lack of light, made out the silhouette of his hotel room in Spain. The day before reached for him like a slap to the face. His heart sped up relatively fast while he looked down to find Harry, calmly asleep and ever so at peace. His heart beat faster, but this was not fear, nor anxiety, but rather the marvelous thrill of knowing you’re next to someone you can call yours. Louis felt the butterflies in his stomach triple and then multiply. The night before, the heavy breaths, the whispers in each other's ears, the moaning, the pleasure, it all came back, light speed fast.

He almost cursed under his breath as blood rushed fast down his pants without being able to do anything about it. Harry beside him stirred some more, and his leg moved then, accidentally brushing up against Louis’s morning wood. He almost whimpered but was strong enough to hold it in. Harry kept _moving,_ though, like he could not find the right spot yet. Then, his arm joined in, and Louis tried to slowly turn to the other side— beginning to consider an icy shower if he could just get out of bed.

Just as he began to move toward the edge of the bed, Harry’s smooth hand reached directly for his cock, and Louis made an abrupt noise of surprise.

Swiftly, Harry’s evergreen eyes were looking up at Louis through his dark eyelashes. His lips looked heavenly, and Louis thought it wasn’t fair; Harry could look like that first thing in the morning. A series of quick moves had Harry straddling Louis’s hips, and his whole body then began to lower while staring directly at him.

Louis’s breaths came in short and shocked, watching the whole scene unfold through milliseconds.

“Are you okay, is this okay?” Harry asked with his low Cheshire drawl, voice raspy from disuse.

“I am, it is,” Louis said, almost breathless, barely managing to say anything at all.

“Okay then,” Harry’s hand darted straight for his mouth and placed a lone finger by his lips, effectively shushing him completely. Louis would’ve commented on how cheesy it’d been if he’d had any oxygen left.

Harry’s perfect mouth suddenly enveloped him whole, and Louis had no chance in hell to do anything else anymore. He watched with pulsing awe as Harry skillfully sucked him off at the wee hours of the morning. His porcelain white skin seemed to glow against the dark room, and his dark curls danced along to the rhythm his head kept. Louis let out a soft moan and let his muscles relax, warmth swallowing his body entirely. Fucking heaven it was.

Harry’s hands moved with experience, running a single finger down his sternum through his stomach and to the base of his shaft. What looked like a pattern of complicated moves had Louis gasping time and time again, moaning loud for everyone to hear. For his part, Harry was going to town, tongue, lips, and cheeks sucking so perfectly Louis saw double. Feeling the back of Harry’s throat and the sounds he would suddenly make, Louis would not last much longer, and he let Harry know.

In response, he just shook his head and moved more heartily, his resolve never wavering. Louis was powerless to the man before him, and with a single flick of his hand and tongue, Louis felt himself go over the edge, grunting as Harry moved his tongue expertly around him.

“Oh fucking shit Harry,” Louis managed to say with a tight throat. Harry smiled and, with a soft slide of his lips, removing his mouth from Louis’s cock.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” Harry said with a scratchy, post-blowjob, morning voice.

A minute of absolute silence passed, “I get it you’re trying to kill me,” He deduced while still riding his high, his whole body almost floating in the bed.

“Not particularly, more woo off your feet and the sort,” Harry laughed while cuddling close to Louis’s side as if he hadn’t just given him the most legendary head.

“I love you, Harry Styles,” Louis whispered a few minutes after they’d gone quiet.

Harry smiled into his chest, and Louis smiled too because he hadn’t been as happy or as relieved to lay next to another man in many years. It almost felt like those movie happy endings. Credits could begin rolling any second.

“I love you too, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry whispered back and lifted his head for a closed-mouth kiss. His stomach rolled happily, chest warm.

The rest of their morning was spent waiting for room service to feed them, showering together and laughing at how dumb they looked, then staying in bed some more without a single care in the world.

Just after four p.m, Niall knocked unwillingly on their door.

“Hi,” Niall greeted Louis guiltily.

“Hi Ni,” Louis said, smiling warmly at his best friend, in part because he could not stop smiling in general.

Niall sighed, rubbing the nape of his neck, “I hate to break the honeymoon Lou, but Stello’s been screaming everyone’s ear off to send someone here to get you. He’s planned a week-long simulation routine and exercise schedule he wants you to follow before Monaco. He specifically asked me to tell you,” Niall paused and let out a frustrated breath, continuing with an annoyed voice, “That he ‘ _really_ wants Monaco,’” He rolled his eyes.

Louis groaned to the ceiling too. Stello had been ringing his phone so incessantly the night before; he’d decisively turned it off and chugged it somewhere down the room. He considered leaving it there after they left.

Harry came up to the door after hearing the conversation's general tone and let his chin rest on Louis’s shoulder once he saw it was Niall.

“Hi Niall Horan,” Harry said slyly, “You wouldn’t happen to know if Gems left yet, right?”

Niall’s pale complexion went beet red, and he shook his head quickly. Too fast to make him look innocent. “No, no, nope. Not at all. Haven’t seen her since the race— in the screens, through the uh- the screens in the garage, that day.”

Louis bit back his laugh and crossed his arms while balancing Harry’s head on his shoulder, “Nice, Ni.”

Niall went impossibly redder and began to backtrack his feet the same way he came, down the hall, “Well, you got my message, Louis. Turn on your phone and check your flight schedule. Fran sent everything this morning. Bye.”

In the next blink of an eye, not even his shadow remained on the hotel floor.

“You’re such a menace, Harry,” Louis scolded while closing the door behind him. Harry moved from his perch and threw his whole body toward the bed once more.

“Last one for good luck?” Harry wiggled his brows suggestively while rubbing the spot beside him, which only made Louis laugh.

A beat then, “Yes, please,” And then their bodies tangled back to the sheets like no demons were clacking around in their heads, and as if the world had never been touched by pain, by hate, by violence. Their bodies intertwined in a Spanish hotel like two teenage-lovers unable to see past the other’s existence. They faded into the background.

+

With every passing year, Monaco became increasingly harder. A track that had been designed for cars measuring half the size that the current ones measured, overtakes, corners, long straights, and every chicane was a nightmare to drive through. Monaco’s narrow streets made it impossible to overtake another car, let alone do any sort of maneuver on the other drivers. Louis’s entire team, family, and friends worried this was the race he was coming back to after the crash. Louis shrugged everyone off.

Yes, Monaco was a bloody pain the arse every year, a little bit more, but it didn’t change the fact that he was ready to try, even if he finished dead last. Louis was aware that if he were to announce his retirement from F1 there and then, a few sighs of relief would’ve been heard across the room.

Nevertheless, he persevered because it was the one thing he’d known how to do, ever since he’d been able to properly coach his arms and legs to work together in a synchronized manner.

His heart would still beat right out his chest when he imagined not getting into a car the following week, not being able to go as fast as Formula 1 cars could go. Perhaps one day, the feeling would change, morph into the faces of his family, his own children, and husband looking back at him with worry, and he would finally choose to put the helmet down and cuddle the people closest to him. Now, it was not that time. Not yet.

“Wake up Sleeping Beauty, the track’s clear, let’s go,” Ben ordered into his ear, and Louis came back to see his whole crew on stand by, waiting for him to drive out of the garage.

“Sorry guys, spaced out. Let’s go,” He said into the mic, and off he went, the car’s engine screaming a shrill yell into the Monegasque streets. People waved fast from the stands in neon red. Louis smiled privately while merging with the track.

“We’ll do three simulators today and try to go for the fastest lap at the end if the tyres aren’t spent yet. Road’s yours.”

“Copy.”

Most of the morning had consisted of Harry and Louis almost not being able to detach from each other. Louis had been tempted to let Harry climb into the SF1000 with him, but of course, he knew better. If only.

They’d woken up in each other’s hair, laughing about some people yelling in the hallway about expired cheese and a torn flip flop. A family speaking quick, loud, Italian shushed them immediately.

They’d eaten breakfast together on the balcony overlooking Monte Carlos’s riviera. If they held hands and Louis, let Harry play with his hair whilst they ate no one’s business. Louis was widely aware of how sick in love they seemed.

“So this is not too fast, right?” Harry had asked then, his brow frowning away the beating sun on their face. A few sailboats went by like a painting on a wall.

“What is?” Louis had mumbled; his bones were lazy with the warmth surrounding them and the soothing feeling of having Harry next to him.

“Well, actually two things,” He’d said, sitting up a little straighter.

Louis had made a noncommittal sound, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. They were closed anyway, and he had nothing to be afraid of.

“The race, the practices, physical therapy, interviews, cameras, loud noises, is none of it a lot for you?” Harry asked, turning most of his body to Louis, his breakfast long forgotten on the table.

Louis recognized Harry needed to be assured he was okay for the race, so he also unglued his eyes open and sat up, his sunglasses discarded on a lounge chair. “It used to be,” He smiled, remembering a memory, “I used to cry before karting races because the cameras scared me. I thought they looked like giant monsters or summat. Mom realized, and before my next race, she took me to a Maplin, straight to the camera section. I was terribly afraid, but she made sure to sit on the floor with me and let me take a closer look at those things. I learned why the lenses always pointed at me and everything. After that, things became easier.” He let his finger absent-mindedly trace across Harry’s porcelain arm, “Mum can go on and on about how much she hates to watch me get into that overpriced coffin, but after everything is said and done, she was the first person to cheer me on and reassure me.”

“Mmm,” Harry said, his eyes far away, deep in thought, “Are you saying it’ll get easier to watch you get in that car every race week?”

“No, you’ll have to trust I’ll come back to you every time. I’ll do everything I can, Harry, no matter what,” Louis let his tracing finger snake up toward Harry’s cheek, his palm blooming to caress his face. “Always, okay?”

Harry turned, his eyes always fully dedicated to whoever he was speaking to. Louis never failed to breathe slower when their eyes would meet. His rosy red lips parted almost in awe, as Louis would do too. Then they met in the middle for a slow-burn kiss.

“Okay,” Harry had replied, letting their mouth blend together once more.

“Louis, ease into 5; you’ll make the gearbox overload in turn 3,” Ben said suddenly in his ear. Louis realized he’d daydreamed through the straight.

“Sorry mate,” He cleared his throat, “let’s warm up the tyres.”

+

Monaco’s race day began as a hectic mess. The car broke down by Practice 3, and the whole garage scrambled to bring it back for the race. Ben yelled a few times, Louis warmed up with Wes, and Harry disappeared to stay with Gemma and let Ferrari breathe out the terror of not starting in Monaco.

Stello appeared after an hour of repairs had gone underway, and he yelled a few times too. Ben almost yelled back, but Liam forced him to bite his tongue a second before it would’ve been too late. Niall did not speak for three hours while the car was fixed, lending a hand to Louis’s side of the garage, and helped fix a few computer problems Louis could not be bothered to understand.

Zayn and Liam disappeared for a while before the race but made it back just in time with flushed cheeks and dopey smiles. Louis made a gagging noise in Liam’s face.

Once the car had been fixed, Louis was assured it shouldn’t break down at all during the race. Thankfully their garage had no cameramen, and no fans could see inside. As he climbed in, Harry snuck to his side and kissed him good luck. The crew was magically doing something else and not noticing both of them in the middle of the box an inch away from each other's face. Of course, he knew Niall had some part in it. Ben, however, was turned toward Louis from the pit wall, giving him a warning look while telling him to get in the car already. Louis brushed him away and asked Harry to meet him at parc fermé, aka, the end of the race.

A few laps here, one miraculous overtake there, an almost engine problem, a Liam DNF, and a perfect pit stop later had Louis waving to the crowd from the podium’s step labeled ‘1.’ Stello nodded eerily at the back of the crowd of screaming Tifosi fans. Louis ignored him and doused champagne on Gemma and Andrew, who drank heartily from their massive Moët bottles.

“I love you, even though you made my sister get second place, I love you,” Harry yelled, over the crowds just on the other side of the wall, not minding Louis’s sweaty and deeply indented face with his balaclava’s outline. His hair was a messy set of spikes and strands going in every direction. Harry kissed him senseless despite all of it. Louis almost moaned in pleasure. Nothing beats the joy of getting first place in a Monaco race and then having your blazing hot artist boyfriend snog you in a hidden corner of a changing room with no door.

“This is fucking heaven,” Louis panted, still winded from the race and Harry’s lips on his.

“Skip the party tonight; I’ll help you celebrate,” Harry muttered in his ear, the rasp in his voice almost making Louis’s pants tighten uncomfortably.

“Okay, but shut up and kiss me cause I have to do interviews in three minutes.”

“Say no more 28.”

Louis groaned into their kiss but did not make any move to stop their snogging session.

+

Later in the night, lying spent next to each other and the giant Monaco trophy sat on the nightstand made Louis snort.

“What?” Harry panted.

“My life’s a romantic comedy Harry,” Louis mumbled back, barely being able to form a coherent sentence amidst his euphoric high. Also, all of Harry’s weight lay on top of him, and he would not complain ever.

“Why?” Harry asked again, his eyes closed, riding his own high.

“I have a perfect boyfriend, a successful career, and a sad origin story, tell me how it isn’t a film in the making.”

“How can you think at all after having sex? I can barely blink,” Harry replied, his body rolling off Louis like a lump of clothes.

“Who the fuck knows,” Louis said breathlessly as Harry suddenly enveloped him in another mouth-watering kiss, his muscles strong and sweaty against his skin. The only sounds in the room were the distant record of Joni singing about California in the background while their mouths danced together, their chest moving heavily up and down into each other.

“Say it,” Harry requested while holding Louis’s face with his massive hand.

“What?” Louis asked in a daze, the feeling of Harry’s lips lingering ever so perfectly on his mouth.

“Say it,” Harry said again, into the side of Louis’s face, his mouth kissing through Louis’s jaw and neck.

“I love you,” Louis said, struggling to keep his eyes open, every kiss forcing him to go under little by little.

“Again, please,” Harry requested while still traveling down the trail of his collarbone.

“I… love you, Harry,” Louis said with less oxygen than before. His hands involuntarily grasped for the air around his boyfriend, eager to grab ahold of him in some way.

“I,” He said while kissing his sternum, “love,” he continued, down to his solar plexus, “you,” to the side of his waist, “too,” he finished, a long kiss almost at his navel.

“Come back here,” Louis said while running his hands through Harry’s hair.

“If you want, I can,” Harry ran a finger across his stomach, making the muscles jump, “stay down here a while.”

Louis felt the blood rush equally up and down his body, and he was ready to go again, his libido surprising him suddenly. “Okay, but come up here too. I want to see your lovely face.”

“Mmhm,” Harry said, already lost in the ecstasy of pleasuring his boyfriend senseless.

Louis reckoned it was the most glorious victory sex he’d ever had.

+

London greets both of them with showers, the streets gathering puddles and the pedestrians frowning, always frowning against the rain. The clouds cast a sad grey onto the buildings, making everything seem sadder. Louis breathed it all in and smiled.

“Happy to be home,” He said while stepping off Ferrari’s private jet, Harry hurrying to his side with an open umbrella.

“Me too, but there’s no reason to get soaked before you get home, love,” He chastised, covering both of them with the umbrella and following a giddy Louis down the steps of the plane. He smiled, thinking Louis could not see it.

“You’re hot when you worry about me,” Louis said, nudging at Harry’s rib.

“Shut the fuck up, 28,” Harry laughed, trying to conceal his smile, perhaps imagining that their driver waiting a few feet from the plane would be able to tell they were madly in love because they laughed with each other, and not the fact that Harry was holding him by the waist and carrying his umbrella for him.

“You need media training, sweetheart.”

“I do not,” Harry scoffed.

“Of course you don’t,” Louis pouted and let Harry pull him in closer, his face squished against Harry’s wooly lilac jumper.

Sex on legs that man was. Even after a long plane ride and a very early morning, his hair was intact, styled to the side in a sweeping fashion with short curls poking around each other like the greek gods in sculptures. He stared dreamily up at his boyfriend.

“What?” Harry asked once they were sat in the range rover, loaded up with their bags, and both of them sat in the back seat. Harry was carefully threading a hand through Louis’s hair, who was comfortably laid across the seats.

“Nothing,” Louis replied with a small smile. His hand lifted, reaching to touch the small details in Harry’s face. A tiny white scar underneath his chin, the small stubble around his jaw, the two beauty marks by his left cheek. His eyes glowed a pale green whenever the scarce rays of sunlight hit his face just right. Harry smiled, eyes moving from the raindrop-filled window to Louis’s face.

“You look wonderful today,” He complimented, one of his ringed fingers touching his cheekbone softly.

Louis leaned into his touch, helpless to Harry’s existence. He smelled of a strong cologne he usually wore. Vanilla mixed with cedarwood and leather. Masculine yet sweet and strong. His cheeks burned once he realized Harry was complimenting him and looking down at him too.

“You look wonderful too,” Louis whispered back, stomach bursting with butterflies.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered even quieter, then took Louis’s hand from his chest and gave it a chaste kiss, never breaking eye contact.

Louis chuckled, never so at peace or in love as he was right then.

+

“We have to tell our mums before the papers find out.”

Louis stopped wiping down the kitchen counter after their pizza lunch. Wesley would never let him live it down if he found out he’d broken his meal plan— but what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Shit, you’re right,” Louis groaned.

Harry shrugged and pointed to his cellphone, “I can call my mum right now and let her know. Gemma sort of figured out everything from intuition alone. She saw me when you crashed so, it was pretty obvious,” He admitted with a pink tinge of embarrassment on his neck.

Louis’s stomach turned with adoration, and he could not help the love-sick urge to hug Harry tightly to him, despite their height difference.“Gemma still needs to find out officially, and I can’t do it over the phone with mum. I’m driving down to Donny in two days for lunch. I’ll tell her then.”

Harry hummed, in response, “Should I go with you?”

He shook his head, “Let me break it to her alone and see if she’ll be mortifyingly embarrassing next time we meet her first so that you can have a heads up.”

Harry nodded into Louis’s head, both of them standing in the middle of Louis’s living room. It’d been a trip watching Harry eye his apartment and stand by the places Leonard had once stood. He ran a lean finger through his shelves of family pictures and stared at the wall dedicated to his trophies. He cooed at the pictures of Louis with his karting kit and tiny helmet, then cooed some more at the actual junior helmet in the display cabinets by his bookshelf. Some pictures had Louis at sixteen signing his first Ferrari contract; another had Jay and Louis posing in front of Ayrton Senna’s 1994 FW16 when he was eight years old. In a few, his lovely Daisy and Phoebe were sat at six-year-old in Louis’s first Ferrari car with his helmet being three times too big for them.

Louis had watched warmly as Harry made his way around Louis’s different life accomplishments. He asked about the immortalized certificate on the wall. It was the official letter sent to him approving his super license to drive for Formula 1, and Louis explained how it arrived a day before his sixteenth birthday.

Harry seemed awed and floored, truly proud of watching everything Louis had made for himself in the walls of his home. Leonard had never paid them much mind, stating he already knew what Louis was and how he’d gotten to the sport. The stark differences glowed brighter when Harry stood stock still beside the old memories. Louis sighed into his chest.

“What’s on your mind?” Harry asked kindly, his voice seeming to coax a scared turtle from its shell.

“Thinking about how I was back then, the boy in the pictures. He was very,” Louis turned from his nook in Harry’s arm to look at the beaming boy with one goal in his mind, “innocent,” He trailed off, feeling a surprising sadness sprout from his stomach. He’d never been one for sudden mood swings. There was a first time for everything, though.

“Does it make you sad to see yourself as you were?”

Louis shook his head no, “Maybe nostalgic. I used to dream extremely big. Mum would always get scared for me because she was afraid I’d come crashing back down if my dreams never came true. They did, and some things I’ve done I never imagined I’d be able to do when I was little. It’s bittersweet. I was innocent, but I was also naive and a rookie. It all worked out in the end,” He turned and faced his beautiful boyfriend, the gloomy English sky setting him in the spotlight. Louis sighed content.

“I love you,” Harry replied.

“Love you too,” Louis laughed, very aware they were sick in love and the most annoying couple on the face of the planet. He was just too happy to care about it.

+

Once morning came around, Louis woke up with Harry’s warm arm holding him tight to his chest. He barely moved while he slept soundly, dark, long eyelashes laying delicately over his cheeks. Louis did not dare move as he laid there and watched Harry breathe softly. He reckoned he could get used to doing that every morning. Staring at Harry’s sleeping frame, his peaceful breathing almost like a silent meditation.

A bang from the door made Louis tense up. Though he knew all three of his friends and most of his siblings and mom had a key to the apartment, he wondered if someone was breaking in as they slept. Heavy footsteps led to Louis’s bedroom, and then something falling to the floor, a soft curse, and then his door was slammed open.

Louis immediately knew it was Liam just from the outline alone. Still, while he’d hoped the commotion hadn’t been enough to wake Harry up, he quickly realized his boyfriend was sitting up next to him with puffy eyes and tense muscles, one hand still around Louis’s waist.

“Holy shit!” Liam yelled and slammed the door, and disappeared from the room faster than he’d come in.

Louis groaned and laid his whole body back down, “Fucking Liam,” he cursed.

Harry was still sat up with the most adorably, confused expression. His lips looked heavenly pink, and Louis almost whimpered with sadness. He’d been sleeping so peacefully.

“What,” Harry trailed off, voice heavy with sleep too.

“Liam has a key to the apartment and decided to barge in. He probably didn’t know you were here.”

Harry was quiet as he laid down too and melted right back to his previous position, hugging Louis with one muscled arm and a mellow expression. “Fall back asleep then.”

Louis planted a soft kiss on his forehead and chuckled, “I better check what he wants. Sleep some more; I’ll make us breakfast.”

“Mmmhm,” Harry mumbled, already sinking back into the bed.

Outside, Liam was pacing the living room with a nervous expression. Once he spotted Louis

he went right to him, “Lou, I am so sorry, I would’ve never come in at all if I’d known you were there with Harry, oh my god,” He groaned and covered his face, seeming to relive the moment, “You know I wouldn’t—”

“Li, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” Louis cut in, placing both arms on Liam’s shoulders. “I haven’t checked my phone since yesterday so, it’s probably my fault anyway.”

Liam stared for a beat at Louis with a growing smile.

“You look so happy,” He said in quiet realization.

Louis’s cheeks reddened significantly, “Shut up,” He laughed.

“Last, I knew Harry was taking care of you in Spain. When did,” He gestured wildly to his bedroom door, “all the rest happen?”

Louis sat in his living room love seat and sighed, “Pretty fast, evidently. We kissed, we talked about everything, and we’re together. It’s a straightforward story.”

Liam snorted, “ _Nothing_ about you and Harry is simple.”

“Well, gossip time’s over, shall I offer you my most gourmet breakfast? Eggs, toast, and a strong coffee?”

“If you can, then yes, please.”

+

In the kitchen, Louis made quick work of setting two pans with eggs to simmer while placing three orange juice glass cups on the counter. Toasts were almost done in the toaster. Liam moved in the living room, setting his record player with his Aretha Franklin’s Best Hits vinyl.

Louis did not get overwhelmed while preparing three plates of food. He’d grown up in a house with six younger siblings, all screaming and jumping very close to the open fire. He’d learned to cook for the family like a soldier in an intense boot camp program.

“Mornin’,” Harry cut into his thoughts, sluggishly making his way to Louis. One of his eyes was still closed tight, while the other blinked fast against the rare view of the sun coming through the window.

“Hi, my love,” Louis said softly, melting fast from seeing Harry slowly wake up.

They shared a quick peck on the lips, and Louis almost floated off the floor.

“Is Liam here?” Harry asked, both arms wrapped around his waist.

“Putting on some Aretha in the living room. Breakfast’s almost ready, darling.”

Harry nodded and let his head rest on Louis’s shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hmm, like a baby, you’re a giant blanket.”

Harry smiled lazily, “Glad to be of service then.”

“Help me set the table; I’ll be out in a second.”

Harry nodded and unlatched his heavy, warm body from Louis, heading toward the living room to talk to Liam.

Some quiet conversation ensued, and a few minutes later, Louis’s eyes widened in realization, “Liam, do not terrorize him. H don’t let him scare you,” He called.

“Too late,” Harry replied unsurely.

Louis rolled his eyes but continued mixing the eggs until they were scrambled enough. He grabbed jam and butter from the fridge and carefully made his way toward the dining table. In the living room, Liam was smiling with crinkled eyes at Harry, who was just sat there looking nervously at his best friend.

“Liam, stop it. Leave him alone for god’s sake,” Louis hurried to them once he’d set everything down. He pulled Harry from the hand and behind him like Liam was a rabid dog about to attack him. “You’ll scare him away.”

“I don’t think that can happen,” Harry said sickeningly sweet from behind him.

“Give me a week,” Liam said over him.

“Both of you shut the fuck up and come eat; it’s a miracle I cooked at all.”

Sitting at the table, Louis sat at the head with Liam and Harry on opposite sides. Once they’d gotten over Liam supposedly threatening Harry, they were all able to move past it to have some actual breakfast.

“H, when are you starting that children’s school Lou talked about?” Liam asked, finishing his last piece of toast.

Harry cleared his throat and went red at the tips of his ears, perhaps because Louis talked about him to his friends, “This week we’re holding the inauguration ceremony at the studio and welcoming the kids by Saturday. I’ll have to miss Azerbaijan, but I’ll try to get to Montreal before the race.”

Liam nodded, “Zayn’s been dying to visit the studio. We’ll try to pop in this week to see your collection.”

Louis felt pride staring at Harry. Both of them had been through their fair share of pain and trauma, but they’d managed to survive it and reach one another in time.

“Thank you; I’ll be there most of the week working on the classes and teacher training, so you’re more than welcome to come whenever,” Harry offered right as his phone went off. He quickly excused himself and left to the bathroom.

“What did you say to him?” Louis asked accusingly.

Liam shrugged, “Just to look out for you, be there when you need him, that’s all,” The innocence dripping from his words did not convince him in the slightest.

“Right, and then you both drank tea and hugged.”

“Sure,” Liam replied with a laugh.

+

Later in the evening, after Liam left, they both stayed on the couch watching movies. Louis cuddled close to Harry on his chest, and their breathing synched in a peaceful up and down.

“I have to go grocery shopping for some things later. Wanna come?” Louis asked with his chin propped on Harry’s sternum. Their socked feet were intertwined at the end, and Louis was happy just admiring the green of Harry’s eyes.

“Sure. Liam left a gift for me, so I’ll wear that to go out today,” Harry’s smirked, amused.

Louis sat up on top of Harry’s stomach, not caring if there was enough oxygen for his boyfriend to breathe, “What gift?”

“A surprise, can’t say.”

“Tell me or go put it on Styles; I want to see what it is,” Louis warned, pressing his left knee harder into Harry’s chest.

Harry faked passing out— but then as if he’d been injected with a surge of strength, sat right up with Louis’s weight on him, and then proceeded to _lift_ Louis from him and place him back on the couch, as if he was a book that he’d forgotten to put away.

Louis sat there infuriated, in the same position he’d been on Harry’s body, arms crossed. “Did you just _manhandle_ me?”

Harry knelt both knees on the ground and held Louis’s face in place, “Are you aware of how incredibly adorable you look when you’re mad?”

“No, but I did ask if you just _picked me up_ like some sort of _rag doll_?” Louis asked again.

Harry squished his face, so the words came out muffled, which Louis did not mind, very aware he still looked very intimidating. Also, Harry’s cold rings were pressing against his face, and he could not complain.

“You should be very scared, Styles. Scared and careful, I could go insane and shave all your precious curls off,” Louis mumbled through his cheeks.

“If it’d make you happy,” Harry replied with a dreamy look in his eye. Louis did not give in. No matter how charming he seemed. Then Harry planted a wet kiss on his lips and ran away.

“Ugh,” He wiped at his mouth, “Come back here, you irritating swine.”

A few rustling sounds and something falling to the floor later, Harry reappeared from the bedroom sporting a bright red shirt. Louis squinted, and then his eyes widened once he realized. Harry was wearing a Ferrari shirt with Louis’s number ’28’ emblazoned in the front and back.

“Oh—” Louis covered his mouth in surprise. “What? When? How?” He laughed.

Harry smirked knowingly and nodded his head while wiggling his dumb eyebrows, “Do I look banging, yes or no?”

Louis stared for a second. His own shirt, but in his size, was somehow there, and he was wearing it, and, “I’ve never been more attracted to you.”

“Come here,” Harry beckoned, and Louis decided his pride mattered fuck all and let his legs wrap around Harry’s waist.

“Groceries can wait,” Then smashed their lips together. Harry was happy to oblige.

+

The inauguration came faster than Louis expected, and suddenly they were in his car heading for the studio. Harry’s hands were rubbing nervously at his dress pants. Louis was still staring in awe from his peripheral vision.

Harry had come down from his apartment wearing a loose baby blue vest and big matching pants that seemed more expensive than his Ferrari. Underneath, a sparkling see-through long-sleeved shirt adorned his arms and showed off every tattoo like a framed masterpiece. His hair was styled for the gods, and his face was gorgeous and chiseled as it always was. He’d smiled at Louis and Louis alone, which had almost caused him to faint with giddiness. Sometimes, and only sometimes, he still could not believe the man he got to call his boyfriend. Harry fucking Styles was his boyfriend. Ha.

Louis had almost forgotten to get out of the car, but snapping to his senses, he’d walked across to the passenger side and waited for Harry to come down the stairs.

“Harry,” Louis had said as soon as he’d been at ear-shot level. “You look bloody gorgeous.”

The pride that had rushed up to his throat when Harry blushed crimson red would be discussed by no one, ever. “You have to say that because you like shagging me.”

“Shut up and get over here faster,” Louis had, of course, kissed him senseless once he’d stood before him, the passerby be damned. He rarely got recognized in London anymore.

“Mmm, won’t Fran hate you forever if they see us?” Harry asked into their kiss.

Louis let their mouths blend and move together; tongues intertwined deliciously, “I don’t care.”

Harry had snorted and pulled from their kiss, “Well, I happen to care for your manager and wouldn’t want her to kill you prematurely. In you go,” he'd pointed to the car.

“Fine,” He’d rolled his eyes.

A few minutes of comfortable silence went by, Harry’s hand entertained with Louis’s own, his thumb rubbing gently against his palm.

“You look wonderful too,” Harry said in the car then, staring at Louis with so much love it seemed impossible to imagine.

“Thank you, I think the hair and the turtleneck are very daring,” Louis joked, focusing on the road entirely.

Of course, Harry then decided to press his stupid mouth to Louis’s stupid neck and kiss it, slowly enough that Louis leaned toward his side like a stupid lovesick man he was.

“I’m not kidding. I really want to take that off you with my teeth later,” Harry rasped into his ear, and if Louis’s dick twitched, it was nobody’s business.

“Are you planning on dying in a car accident? I’m driving you, nymph,” He said just the slightest bit breathless. Harry noticed too and immediately leaned closer.

A soft kiss on the neck there, a blow in the ear there, and Harry cupping him through his pants made Louis almost close his eyes and moan, but decided better than to do that since he was _driving_ after all.

“Harry Styles, you have an event to attend in ten minutes, and we can’t be late,” Louis tried to say as firmly as he could muster.

“Mmhm,” Harry continued, his nose now also pressing to the side of his neck, eyelashes fanning softly against his jawline.

“If we’re late, I’m telling everyone it was your fault,” Louis warned the weakest threat he’d ever heard. He could not be blamed when Harry was on him as this one was.

“Fine. Later though, you’re all mine,” Harry finished, his mouth leaving the side of his neck, where a hickey was slowly forming. Thank god he’d worn a turtleneck, though he was almost entirely sure Harry had done it _because_ he was wearing a turtleneck.

+

Pulling up to Harry’s studio was overwhelming.

According to Fran and Harry’s delightful ‘I-Told-You-So’ smirk, people on Twitter had gotten word that Louis and Harry would be arriving in the same car, only furthering the fuel trail of rumors that were bound to blow up sooner rather than later. Apparently, they’d spotted them climbing into Louis’s car, but thankfully, no one had been around for the kiss, so no pictures were circulating of them making out outside Harry’s building.

Paparazzi littered the side-walk, and the nervous valet trying to hold back a few of them immediately sprang to action when he spotted Harry in the passenger seat.

As Louis parked his car in the middle of the busy street, fans and paps alike gathered close to the windows and two doors. Suddenly, Harry’s hand holding his squeezed tightly enough to make Louis’s hand white from the pressure. Louis realized suddenly that Harry was evidently affected by the crowd, and the nervous rubbing that had once been endearing was quickly morphing into panic and fear. Louis squeezed back to let him know he was not facing the crowd alone but also because he was more used to the mobs.

“Harry,” Louis whispered into their contained space, as if the outside world was merely background noise, “Hey,” He called again, to make Harry turn from the window and look at him. “Haz, love.”

Harry’s head snapped instantly once he seemed to register Louis, calling him, “Mhm?” He asked without any words, his doe eyes wide.

“I’m right here, okay? Hold my hand until we get inside, and we’ll be okay, yeah?” Louis lifted their intertwined hands to help him understand the yelling.

Harry looked down at their hands, and his baby blue suit shimmered under all the flashes, making it look even more gorgeous, “Okay.”

“Don’t get out yet; just wait for me here.”

Harry nodded once, and Louis reluctantly disconnected their hands, Harry’s fingers still clutching tightly without noticing.

He then turned to his door and threw it open, making sure to push most bodies aside and make way for him to get through.

_“…dating rumors about you two?”_

_“Louis, Louis, over here, please!”_

_“Will you guys announce it on social media?”_

_“Harry, one picture, look over here.”_

_“Turn this way, Louis, to your left!”_

_“Are you dating the artist who owns the studio?”_

A thousand different voices filtered through the mob, most fading in and out as he pushed and shoved his way across the car. A few flashes went off in his face, and somebody pulled a little too harshly on his blazer. He would’ve snapped at all of them in a heartbeat had Harry not been waiting in the passenger side with a nervous curve in his face.

_“Louis, let’s take a selfie, over here!”_

_“Can you confirm if the dating rumors are true?”_

_“Does both of you arriving together confirm the gossip?”_

Louis kept pushing, eyes cast down to avoid making eye contact and sparking ideas he was there to pay attention to anyone else but his boyfriend. Finally, when someone got too close to Harry’s door, Louis did not hold back any longer.

“Everybody, please give us some space to go in. Step away from the car so we can get inside, all of you,” He yelled as politely as one could manage to sound while bellowing out words.

A few people listened, and the group of bodies by Harry’s door dispersed. Louis had space to quickly make sure Harry was ready, and once he saw a small nod from his bouncy head of curls, Louis smiled just for him and opened his side of the car. Harry’s eternal elegance shone through, and his lean, long hand shot out to take Louis’s own.

A second later, he was standing for the mob to see. Camera flashes exploded by a trillion, probably since their hands were interlocked once more. Harry quickly turned to give Louis a look, and once he seemed appeased to know he was there, Louis led the way through the sea of fans and paps.

Pushing, shoving, a few people stepping on his toes, everything happened too fast to process, but the metal gates guarding the studio were right ahead, so he did not get distracted and instead kept walking. He checked that Harry was still intact and saw that he was indeed untouched, except for his hair, with a few stray curls now out of place.

“Are you okay?” Louis asked as quietly as he could over the voices.

Harry heard, and nodded his head quickly, “Yes, just overwhelmed, s’all.”

A guard at the door spotted Louis and immediately helped push people aside to let them through.

“Welcome, Mr. Tomlinson. Mr. Styles, good to see you again,” The guard greeted.

“Hi, Will, how are you?” Harry asked as soon as they were safely inside. He adjusted his slightly crooked vest.

“Good sir, wonderful to see you again.”

“You too, mate, say hi to Lizzie for me,” Harry said.

“Thank you, sir, enjoy the party.”

Louis offered a polite smile and followed along as Harry then began to lead the way inside. Everything from the last time he’d visited remained the same, except a thousand fairy lights adorned every surface and structure. A fountain Louis hadn’t noticed before looked enchanting across the entrance, water slowly falling in levels.

“This place looks a thousand times fancier when you have guests. I’m starting to sense favoritism,” Louis teased, pulling at Harry’s hand slightly.

Harry laughed, throwing his head back, “Oh my god. Any time you’re even remotely close to this place, I’ll have it decorated and ready just for you then,” Harry pulled at his hand and gave it a quick peck.

Louis could’ve sighed dreamily, but he was slowly getting used to Harry doing normal couple things with him. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Inside, the studio had a few recognizable faces, but most he did not know at all. Almost everyone in the front door's general vicinity turned and lit up as soon as they spotted Harry.

Louis reckoned it was his queue to let Harry work for the crowd, but as soon as he tried to disentangle their hands, Harry held tight, “Don’t go, stay.”

“Are you sure?” Louis asked tentatively. Of course, he would stay right by Harry’s side all night if he asked, but he hesitated, given people would presume them to be together. They hadn’t fully discussed who they wanted to know, though Louis was ready to announce it from rooftops.

“I don’t mind as long as you don’t,” He leaned closer to Louis, their mouths almost touching.

“This is brain-washing, and you know it. But, I don’t mind either, let’s go,” Louis chuckled, and right before they could share a kiss before the night took them on, Gemma called loudly for Harry, her head coming through the groups of people.

“Hi Gems,” Harry greeted, annoyed, looking at his sister’s beautiful lilac dress with falling frills at the bottom. Her hair was back to dark brown, and her makeup matched her dress and white heels perfectly. “You look stunning,” Harry complimented, kissing her on the cheek because she’d begun to frown at him.

“As much as I think you two together is the greatest love story of Formula 1, the people have been asking for you. Also, mum’s somewhere in there,” She pointed with her thumb back to the numerous tables with people stood around them.

Louis noted Harry’s studio lobby was massive. Also, Anne was there, and he was about to meet her. Perhaps his face changed or paled while he thought about it, given Harry shook his head and smiled, “It’ll be okay. Anne Twist is anything but intimidating.”

Heeding his words, Louis tried to remain calm, involuntarily squeezing Harry’s hand until it seemed purple. Harry barely complained or cried out from the intense pain, as the prince charming he usually was.

“Harry Edward Styles, come here, you ungrateful little boy,” What had to be Anne’s angry voice came through the crowd. A sea of people parted to let a shorter version of Gemma through. Her hair was dark, and her piercing green eyes were the carbon copy of Harry’s. Louis struggled to breathe in. That was Harry’s mother.

“Come here, Harry, don’t you dare try to run,” Anne warned, walking surprisingly fast in her fancy high heels. Her dress glittered blue and adorned her tailor-perfect all the way to the floor. Her eyes were dead set on the identical pair her son had, and who was slowly trying to hide behind guests who eyed him amused.

Louis’s hand remained in Harry’s hold, which meant he was being pulled along with him, his face slowly morphing into terror. _Harry’s mum would think he was trying to hide from her too, like a coward,_ he lamented.

Anne finally reached them and, with ninja-skilled precision, managed to snatch one of her son’s ears. She pulled tight to make him come from behind his hiding spot, Harry winced comically but made no move to pull away, “No visits, barely any calls, and a lot of texts, _and_ you’ve been gone for almost a month. How will you explain to yourself, young man?”

Harry kept wincing in pain, while Louis muttered a horrified, “ _Harry,”_ at him, letting him know, he too, was terribly disappointed by his behavior. How would Anne like Louis after her son had ignored her in favor of gallivanting with him around the world?

“I’m sorry, mum, I really, _really_ am. Please let go, I’ll lose my ear before the end of the night, and I’m not Van Gogh status yet; it’ll look cheap.”

Anne scoffed but let him go, though her eyes still seemed warm and amused. His chest lightened as he felt the same wave of calm surge through him as when Harry stood near him. It didn’t seem as scary then.

“You’ve been doing more paintings I didn’t know about. A sculpture, those photos are new, Emma the secretary, and—” Anne stopped in the middle of her speech, suddenly seeming to realize her surroundings and then realizing Louis was standing next to Harry and Gemma, listening with just the right amount of fear. “Oh,” She said. In the blink of an eye, without any warning, Anne suddenly went very calm and kind, her face warming and lighting like the sun. She smiled the most honest and true smile with all her teeth, and her cheeks blushed slightly. “Oh, Harry Styles. Why didn’t you say Louis was coming?” She asked, enamored.

“I would’ve if I hadn’t been attacked,” Harry mumbled through his teeth, and Anne gave him a warning look. He immediately went back to his previous position beside Gemma, letting the two of them be acquainted. Louis held his breath.

“Hello Mrs. Twist, it’s such a pleasure to meet—”

“Enough of that, call me Anne, and give me a hug for christ’s sake,” Anne said loudly, without a care in the world. She extended her arms and immediately engulfed Louis into one of the Styles’ signature bear hugs. Her arms were strong and tightly wound around him, and Louis felt his muscles relax. “It’s so good to meet you, Louis, finally.”

Louis let himself be held in Anne’s arms a little bit longer, eyes closing without meaning to, “It’s nice to finally meet you too, Anne.”

Harry and Gemma seemed to coo in the background and whisper to each other. Louis smiled, and Anne let him go to get a proper look at him.

“Oh, you’re so very handsome. Harry tried to explain, but in person, it’s clear to see,” Anne held his face with one hand, and Louis did not mean to blush blood red, but he could not control it either way. “Let’s get a picture of you two.”

“Oh mum, come on, don’t suffocate him,” Harry reproached, trying to pull Louis away from her reach, “We have guests to talk to.”

Anne shook her head no and pulled her phone out, “I don’t care, I need this moment in a picture, so squeeze together and smile,” She directed, her camera on and pointing at them.

Harry sighed and looked at Louis, asking with his eyes if he was okay and if he minded the picture. Louis shook his head, ‘I don’t mind,’ and then nodded, ‘It’s okay.’ Harry and Louis smiled at each other, finding the whole situation amusing and laughing at each other. Anne snapped the picture right then but requested they take a few more, smiling at the camera.

After the whole photoshoot was done, she let them go, requesting Louis come meet her after a while to chat. Louis knew he should’ve felt terrified like Anne was putting down a formal threat to his livelihood, but he found that she reminded him too much of his own mum, and so his body did not coil back in fear. He nodded and hugged her last before leaving with Harry, holding on to his arm to guide the way.

They walked around meeting some of Harry’s friends, most from the art industry, other artists, sculptors, architects, musicians, and a few celebrities he hadn’t expected to be good friends with Harry. They were all introduced to Louis, and Harry introduced him first as Louis and later mentioned he was his boyfriend. Louis knew he did it to never make him feel like he had to be known only as his partner. Louis’s entire being fell a little more in love, but Harry did not have to know that it affected him like a love-sick teenager.

“I’ll have to give my speech soon,” Harry said as they weaved past everyone they’d already talked to.

“Speech? This is a very fancy inauguration. I forgot to tell you the studio looks gigantic now.”

“Mhm, Emma set it up. I should probably give her a raise.”

“Sure, but first, can we sneak somewhere else and snog?” Louis asked in Harry’s arms. He looked down at Louis with almost teary-eyed.

“That’s the most romantic request anyone’s ever asked of me,” He fake-weeped, and Louis rolled his eyes.

“I’ll go snog someone else if you start crying.”

“Never!” He said louder, mostly to embarrass and annoy Louis when a few people turned to look at them. “I shall kiss you, noble knight, lead the way to my private quarters, where I’ll ravish your body until—”

Harry was effectively shut up when Louis slapped a hand to his mouth, pulling him to the studio where they’d kissed for the first time (officially). Harry laughed the whole way there.

Inside the studio, all the lights were off, except for the overhead yellow factory light that seemed to stay on all night. It cast the studio in a warm-hued-light of browns and yellows, the party noise quieting down to a soft hum past the sound-proof door.

“Wow, it’s quiet in here,” Louis commented, looking around the place at night.

“I had the door installed so I could paint in silence. Very dramatic-artist-from-the classic-period of me, if I may add. Mom gave me shit for a week because of it.”

“Well,” Louis got closer to Harry, until the tips of their noses almost touched, “I think it’s perfect for the occasion.”

Harry groaned and let their mouths join together, the fervor in their lips’ movement showing each other the utter pleasure from enjoying the company. Their tongues mixed, heat rising Louis’s neck, and Harry breathing harder with every chance of air they got.

Harry’s hands ventured from the nape of Louis’s neck to his chest and down to his black dress pants. He let a hand stay there, rubbing and feeling him up. Louis gasped, not trusting the very sound-proof doors enough.

Their hands roamed free on each other's bodies, and suddenly they weren’t just kissing but almost building a prelude to something else. A knock at the door abruptly made them stop.

“Harry, the teachers are ready for the inauguration,” Emma called through an intercom in the door, her face popping up in a small screen to the side.

Harry dropped his head to rest on Louis’s chest, his shoulders lowering in the disappointment, the moment losing momentum fast. He carded his fingers through Harry’s hair, massaging softly until he seemed to fold into Louis from how good it felt.

“Duty calls Mr. Styles.”

“Yeah, feel like rescheduling duty and calling back another time.”

“Not a chance, let’s go,” Louis smiled into Harry’s head, his heart beating fast, though he assumed Harry couldn’t hear or feel it from his lack of comment.

“Fine,” He said forlornly. Louis let their hands intertwine, and Harry’s face lit up slightly. “Let’s.”

+

“Throughout my life, a stable constant was art. I looked for it everywhere, from the moment I was capable enough to understand it, to make it, and to appreciate it. As a young kid, I found solace in painting, drawing, clay, chalk, crayons, pencils, anything to create something on a blank surface. It was therapeutic to escape the hardships I faced, alone and with others. When things were at their very worst, art was my one and only outlet. I fell in love with it, and then I never looked back. Today, this is one of my many plans for the future. To build a safe space for kids of all ages to come and realize and understand if art’s their calling, or to simply get away from everyday life and find that creative outlet I needed growing up. Art is precious, honest, and generous. There’s no wrong way to make it, and as long you truly believe that your work is art, no one can take that away,” Harry stood on the elegant platform set up on a corner of the lobby, looked on at everyone standing before it. His eyes strayed to Louis once, smiling, then returned to the single light shining on him. Every teacher enrolled in the academy stood behind him, a few with the biggest smiles. Louis’s chest felt tight with emotion.

“…And so, with that in mind, we are pleased to inaugurate the HS Youth Art School and its teachers who we welcome into our space,” Harry concluded.

Louis and everyone gathered clapped loudly for him, a few camera flashes going off as Harry shook hands with the school’s new headteacher. They exchanged a few words, then hugged before posing for a group photo with the rest of the school’s staff. Harry and Emma squeezed between all of them.

They cut the red ribbon, took a few more pictures, kissed a few more cheeks, then chatted with a few more guests before Harry finally reached Gemma and Louis, who were chatting away about work, the art in the building, and Gemma’s experience growing up with Harry. Apparently, he was a little shit.

“If you’re talking about me, it better only be your take on what a sweet angel I was to you,” Harry commented, squeezing in to grab Louis by the waist and give him a single peck on the lips.

“In your dreams, Harry. You were the worst best brother,” Gemma sipped on her champagne flute and rolled her big doe-eyes, which resembled Harry’s so much.

  
“I’ll take it,” Harry saluted with his own water-filled flute. Louis let his head rest on Harry’s chest. His favorite spot.

“You were wonderful up there,” Louis complimented without looking up at Harry, content breathing in his strong cologne and listening to his steady heartbeat.

Harry’s hand wrapped around his waist squeezed softly, his face lowering to kiss his head. Butterflies galore.“Thank you, my love; I dedicate it to you then.”

Louis chuckled but made no move to leave Harry’s chest cocoon. He let his eyes wander around the party to see if anybody was staring at them but found instead a single person entering the building, which he did not recognize. This time though, Harry’s heartbeat raced slightly. He squeezed Louis’s waist harder.

Standing up from his position, he watched Harry’s face to understand who the person was and why it affected him so. “What’s wrong?”

Harry shook his head, “Nothing. That’’s my sponsor, Adam. I just forgot he was coming to see the studio,” He replied quietly.

“Are you nervous to see him?” Louis asked, letting a hand linger on Harry’s cheek.

Harry shook his head once more and differed his eyes away from Adam coming in, instead looking down at Louis with his long lashes and big eyes. “No, I just— um, he just,” He stood on one foot and switched to the other, “Adam appearing always meant that I relapsed; I never see him if I’m not having a very bad craving. It’s weird,” He shrugged, thinking he was putting it off like a casual silly thing. Louis persevered.

“I’m here, Harry. What do you need?” Louis asked, certainly. Harry seemed troubled. A long beat of silence.

“Air. Just— before I say hi, I need air,” He admitted after the pause.

Louis nodded fervently and sprung to action. Interlocking their hands, Louis wrapped his arm around the small of Harry’s back, leading him away from the party and down the same corridor, they went through before. Instead of a hard right, they went left, where he remembered the garden was.

A few weak locks later, the doors swung open, and Louis took them out. He found the nearest bean bag and let Harry sink into one.

“Breathe, H. Breathe. Like you’re always telling me,” Louis soothed, grabbing a clean cup from the rack by the sink, filling it up with the jug of cold water Emma seemed to have left behind.

He took it to Harry, who looked calm yet just the slightest bit shook up, “Thank you, love,” He thanked, accepting the cup of water. He chugged it in one go.

They sat in silence. Louis was aware that if Harry needed to talk, they’d talk.

The music and chatter from inside barely made it to their spot under the night sky, much like in the studio, a soft hum with the occasional stray laugh. Maybe five minutes passed, their hands intertwined and Harry playing with Louis’s thumb and fingers.

“Today’s a year since I’ve been sober,” Harry admitted shyly, his fingers closing tighter around his empty glass cup. Louis gasped suddenly, shocked he hadn’t known.

“Oh, Harry,” Louis said with a wavering voice. “I’m so proud of you. I had no idea.”

Harry looked at Louis, straight in the eyes, with no hesitation, “It just doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would be. Most days, I still have yellow days, and most days, it doesn’t take much to make me want to fall over the edge. I don’t know; maybe it’s impostor syndrome or something. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Louis was silent, thinking over Harry’s words. He did not believe his year of sobriety was good enough to be celebrated. He stood and kneeled by Harry’s chair, holding his cheek in one hand, “Just the fact that you’re here, a year sober, means so much, Harry. Do you know what the suicide rate of substance abuse victims is? You decided to stay here, to fight through the cravings. You fought against the urges, Harry. I am so, so very proud of you. Nobody can take this away from you— not even you.”

Harry looked away from Louis then, seeming to struggle to believe him. “How can I look at Adam when I feel this way?” He asked tightly.

Louis’s heart contracted and shrunk from his words. “As you always have. Harry, you are so special to me. You are the love of my life. You can’t think like this about yourself. You are enough,” He could not control the tightness in his own throat, his chest hurt, “You. Are. Enough. Do you hear me? You are more than you think. You’re everything,” He leveled their eyes, so they stood at the same level and then let his forehead rest on the boy.

Harry’s eyes were misty and glassy, but he blinked and let them close, breathing in heavily. “It’s so hard to believe I’m anything but an addict most days. I feel dirty when I have a craving, and then I feel like shit afterward because I had a craving. I beat myself up over it because my shoulder is better after so many months, I should be _cured,_ ” He said through closed teeth.

Louis took Harry’s face and made him look directly at him. “How long has this been going on?” He asked hesitantly, his stomach turning from anxiousness.

“Since a year ago. It started the first month of being sober. I had a horrible day at work; I had to attend an event and decided I was ready to go. It was at Lance’s Windsor house. He promised there wouldn’t be any alcohol, but as soon as I parked there, a drunk couple walked by me, and they reeked. The smell was so strong I had to get back into the car and leave. I almost stopped by three different convenience stores to get some booze, but then Adam called after I didn’t answer his text, and he talked me down from relapsing. I went home and cried because I felt dirty and stupid and childish. How could I not control myself? Why couldn’t I just _stop?”_

Louis's stomach tightened too. “I wish,” He started a minute later, “That you could see yourself as I see you. Strong, capable, kind, attentive, charming, funny, sweet, but, most importantly, caring. You care so much for others, but I think you forget to care about yourself. Why are you less than?”

Harry shook his head, eyes downcast.

“Would you shame me if I were an addict who wanted to relapse constantly?” He asked delicately, his face searching Harry’s where it was hanging down.

“Never,” Harry answered immediately, eyes fiery with so much candor, “I would understand, I would always understand.”

Louis smiled sadly, his eyes feeling as glassy as Harry’s, “Then, why can’t you do that for yourself, Haz? Understand, forgive yourself for the cravings, for the addiction. You will never stop beating yourself up if you don’t give yourself a chance to heal and grow. It’s all give and take, innit’?”

Silence fell again. Louis’s knees protested painfully, so he got up from the ground and sat again in the opposite bean bag. Harry had his elbows on his knees, both his hands intertwined in the middle. A crease in his brow did not change how handsome he looked. Louis sighed, just staring at the boy before him, hoping he’d listen to reason.

After a few more minutes passed, Harry cleared his throat, turning to Louis, “I think I’m okay now. Let’s go inside, yeah?”

“Of course,” He smiled. They let their hands interlock again, his chest feeling a bit heavier from their conversation, but his heart feeling content, Harry felt better too. “Do you want me to meet Adam with you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Let’s go then.”

+

Their conversation with Adam was easy and fun. He was a charming man in his early 30’s with short brunette hair and honey-colored eyes. He wore a striped shirt with some beige dress pants, and he was drinking sparkling apple cider and laughing at their jokes. Harry had slowly uncoiled, and his eyes had gotten brighter and livelier the longer they chatted with him.

Adam walked around with them, asking about different sculptures and paintings. Louis stood back and watched Harry come alive, his voice energetic and velvet-like as he pointed to different pieces, showing the correlation to each other and the messages behind each, as well as their dates and names. Adam ooh’d and aah’d in all the right places and listened intently to Harry explain.

As they finished the studio tour, Adam admitted to Louis that he was a big fan. Louis was surprised but took it all in stride. He then answered all of Adam’s questions about Formula 1 and how the season had gone so far. By the end of the night, he promised Adam he’d bring him along to the paddock and garage for a whole weekend when they raced in Silverstone soon. Adam was giddy with joy, to say the least.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Harry whispered after all the guests had left but Emma, who was helping out the cleaning company.

“Oh?” Louis replied, letting Harry take him by the waist to a smaller corridor, which led to Harry’s private, almost unused office. “Mr. Styles, are you taking me to your office, _just_ the two of us?”

Harry rolled his eyes but did not stop the smile from falling over his lips, “Not quite,” He said, and suddenly they stood by a different painting, slightly hidden from plain view, but still close to the mouth of the hall to be visible. “It’s this, actually.”

Louis frowned, but once he saw, he went from surprised to endeared, to warm, and then proud in different strobe-like flashes of feelings. “Harry,” He managed first, eyes scanning fast over the painting. “It’s—”

“‘The Darkest Hour of My 21st Birthday.’ I had to display with a name, and I thought of that first when I looked at it. It’s not much, but I’m ready for people to see, even if it’s far from the front door’s wall exhibit,” Harry held his hands behind his back, and Louis knew he was nervous. Nervous to show his art so close to the public, nervous about being judged, nervous it wasn’t enough. Because he knew Harry, and he understood Harry.

“Nobody can make you believe this, H. This is,” He looked at Harry, who kept his eyes on the painting, eyes not really looking at it, “Such a big step, and I’m so proud. Of tonight, of this, of _you,_ ” Louis turned, his whole body ignited with the flames of pride and desperation. How could one convince another of anything if the person didn’t already believe it in the slightest? “I am always proud of you. From the moment you looked at me right in the middle of the garage, with your stupid perfectly-styled outfit, to this very moment. An art school, a piece you’re ready to show, and every single person who adores you so happy to be here tonight. I love you, Harry Styles, right now and forever.”

Harry was looking back at him then, his eyes full of emotion, glassy as they had stayed most of the night. Louis briefly thought about how long the night felt, even if it had only been 3 hours.

“Thank you,” Harry said honestly, then leaned in faster than the blink of an eye, and Louis happily followed wherever this boy lead because he was ready to go anywhere with him.

Their lips met as they always did, with every fiber of each other migrating to the surface holding them together, from their hands intertwined in each other's backs and hair, to the edge of their lips, were further in their tongues twirled in a heated exchange.

It made his heart race a thousand times— the thought of forever— the feeling that he’d do anything and everything to keep Harry happy, safe. It terrified him, but a bigger part of him was calm as if he’d been waiting all his life for Harry to come back to him.

His former self, the one who did not know Harry as anything but a boy who’d sucked him off out of rebound ache— he would’ve laughed at the utter nonsense of entertaining the thought of how he stood then, Harry’s entire heart at his mercy, his eyes steadily set on him.

Louis smiled. “I love it when you kiss me senseless, Harry Styles.”

“I love to hear my name coming from your mouth, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry pulled Louis’s lip between his teeth, which only elicited a moan from Louis. Harry giggled quietly as the cleaning crew kept vacuuming the wooden floor a few meters away from them.

“Don’t do shit like that when we’re in public, you _fiend,_ ” Louis slapped Harry’s chest once he realized they’d almost been caught. “Come on; I want to go back to yours and stay there until someone comes to drag me out.”

“Uggh, I thought you’d never ask,” Harry mocked, feigning a surprise attack on his neck.

Louis screamed a laugh because Harry’s teeth tickled, and he made sure to keep the feeling in his stomach, his head, his hands, and his heart for safe-keeping whenever he truly needed to feel whole again.


	17. XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine loves! Hope you're all well-loved and appreciated today and always. I pushed myself to finish writing this small update just for this occasion, but a bigger chapter is coming, so wait for me! Enjoy, and happy reading!

They climbed aboard a plane two days after Harry’s exhibition. The Baku Grand Prix was that same weekend, and Harry left the school’s principal in charge of every decision and order. Louis felt his leg jig up and down anxiously.

“Don’t think about it too much love, it’s just for this week,” Harry soothed calmly into his ear, letting his head rest on Louis’s shoulder.

Azerbaijan’s laws on gay rights were blurry. Fran had been on a twenty-minute call with the two of them the day before, talking about how careful they had to be around the paddock and hotel. She expressed her apprehension to physical contact in front of anybody. Staff members could go to the authorities, and passersby could turn violent.

Needless to say, Harry and him decided it was best they book separate hotel rooms, despite their reluctance. They agreed to tone down any PDA to zero for the time being and knew it would be better if they didn’t sleep in each other’s rooms for fear of hotel staff spotting them. They also agreed to meet up in the paddock but only stay together in private rooms.

“Are you nervous?” Louis asked, turning to look at Harry’s profile below him. He seemed lost in thought.

“A little,” Harry admitted, squeezing Louis’s hand. “But we’ll be careful. Nothing can go wrong as long as we tread lightly.”

Louis nodded, turning back to stare out the window and the serene baby blue sky, clouds perfectly lined below them.

What felt like days later, Harry let his hand softly graze along Louis’s cheek, “Wake up Lou, I think we’ll be landing soon.”

‘ _Please put on your seatbelts and adjust your seats; we’ll be landing in Baku, Azerbaijan, in less than ten minutes. Thank you.’_

He let his eyes open, noticing the other mechanics putting away their equipment while still chatting with each other. His lungs felt a little heavier, and the ball of nerves in his stomach twinged slightly against his ribcage. He exhaled and relaxed every muscle slowly. Harry noticed tightly held their intertwined hands.

“It’ll be okay,” Harry whispered again. Louis felt a small drip of sadness in his throat. He would miss hugging and kissing him for the rest of the week. Especially having him so close whenever he pleased. “We’ll be fine, okay?”

Louis nodded, “Okay. Just don’t look at me with your big, doe-eyes, or I’ll break. Just… look somewhere else or something.”

Harry laughed again, “How am I supposed to talk to you, then?”

“I don’t know; look at a wall, I’ll know you’re addressing me.”

Harry nodded, his eyes amused, his mouth set in a sad line. “Last kiss for luck?”

“Mhm,” Louis agreed fervently, leaning in faster than he planned and letting their mouths blend. Harry complied immediately, not having to be asked twice. His giant hands immediately enveloped Louis’s face, his fingers drawing circles across his jaw. Louis felt his hands magnetically move toward Harry’s, holding them close for as long as he was allowed.

They kissed like it was their last night on earth and the Ferrari engineers were kind enough to sit on the chairs facing away from them, granting them a sliver of privacy.

Harry caressed his cheek, appeasing Louis’s desperation. Louis squeezed Harry’s arm; I’ll _miss you. Please wait for me._

Harry squeezed back as if he understood what he’d said, _I’ll miss you too. I’ll wait. Always._

+

Louis did not expect to step from the car— arriving a few minutes before Harry’s separate ride— to a small group of F1 fans at the doors of the hotel. They were young, a few parents, and a few adults. He happily stopped to greet all of them and took pictures with everyone that asked. A few girls excitedly explained how they’d become fans of Louis and wished him luck in the race.

Just as he finished signing the last t-shirt from a younger girl no more than fifteen, Harry’s car parked behind his own Uber. A few girls squealed in excitement when they spotted him, and a girl he’d already talked to turned to him again. “Is it true Harry Styles is your boyfriend? My sister and I would love you two together!”

Louis was surprised, to say the least. Even though they’d been shipped, spotted, and photographed, he hadn’t yet been asked upfront. He couldn’t help the small smile that invaded his face. It did turn his stomach every way to think of Harry as his boyfriend.

“Uh, well,” Louis started, thankful his sunglasses hid his crinkling eyes well. He smiled for them, “I can’t really say, but as long as you keep this to yourselves,” They all nodded fast, eyes wide and attentive, “He’s a lovely chap. You should say hi to him too. He won’t bite,” He chuckled and waved goodbye to the wide-mouthed group.

Inside, he only had to retrieve his key card from the front desk and head up to his room for a quick shower. Instead, he pretended to check his phone twice and then looked around the lobby he’d been in many times before. Harry finally made his way past the rotating doors with a charming smile, and the girls outside were squealing and excitedly jumping and talking to each other. He greeted all three doormen and a few guests who were making their way out. Louis bit the smile off his face. _Control yourself; any other time would be okay, but right now, control it._

“Why hello, Mr. Tomlinson, how have you been?” Harry asked loudly with a cheeky set of deep dimples.

_“_ Mr. Styles! It’s been a fine minute since we’d talked. I am good, how are you?” Louis chatted along with a posh English accent, while Harry had opted for a bizarre old Englishman's voice. Everyone in the lobby ignored them.

“Hmm, I am fine, thank you. I can’t wait to watch the race— and see you lose, of course— I’ve got my bets set on car number nine, you see,” Harry pretended he was smoking from a pipe.

“Oh, good sir, I’ll be happy to see you disappointed then. _My_ bets are on car 28, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Hmm, indeed,” Harry said replied in his normal voice. Louis could not help but stand there and quietly smile at the man, who smiled back with a private look in his eyes too. A second later, they were torn apart by a group of Mercedes staffers calling for Harry.

Harry jumped a mile in the air, his eyes widening like he’d been caught naked in a locker room. Louis chuckled and left him by his suitcase, making a bee-line for the elevators before Harry was able to notice he’d gone properly.

Once safely inside a carriage, Louis watched Harry still standing in the middle of the lobby, wonderful as always, and he waved goodbye with a wistful look in his eye. Louis managed to wave back before the door closed.

A sigh escaped him. It would definitely be a long weekend.

+

“How about this, five more, and I won’t call you in for the rest of the week.”

“Is that safe?”

“It’s a bargain. I don’t think he’ll do them otherwise.”

Louis could feel the blood thumping harshly against his skull, his face probably beet red and sweating profusely. “I am _right_ here,” He groaned.

“I know, but Harry asked,” Wesley quipped while holding his left foot tight against the wide elastic band. “Now, breathe in, and I’ll turn it.”

“You mean… y-you’ll try to break it again?” Louis tried to make out while breathing in and bracing his leg for the pain. Harry’s hand turned ghostly white from the pressure of Louis’s fingers. He looked down at Louis, completely unbothered by the strength of his hold, his eyes instead looking into Louis’s with a soft twinkle that made his head spin. A debate ensued whether it was Harry’s face or Wesley twisting his ankle in different directions to ‘strengthen it.’

“Don’t stop breathing, 28,” Harry’s low rumble of a voice said from above him, where he stood looking over Louis in the therapy stretcher of death.

“Right… that,” His cheeks fired up suddenly. Harry smiled at him again, index finger playing with the smaller hairs by his ear. He reminded himself to breathe, annoyed he was obvious enough to let Harry notice.

A few minutes of Harry dreamily looking at him straight in the eyes passed by gloriously fast and eternally slow. Wes kept twisting his foot, whichever way before he finally stopped.

“We’re done, Tomlinson. If I get an earful for letting you skip therapies, I’ll tell them it’s your fault.”

“Mhm, I know,” Louis said through gritted teeth. Wesley always saved the most painful workouts for last.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked as he always did when Louis got therapy for his stupid foot.

“He didn’t kill me this time, so yeah, sure,” Louis bit at Wes, who quickly disappeared behind a door that led to a long hallway.

“You love me, mate,” He called back, voice fading fast.

“Do you think people can see us?” Harry asked quieter, looking around the room and the slightly ajar door where a few crew members and circuit staff had just walked past.

Louis watched the small space where the door was open and the windows covered by a long line of office curtains. He turned to look at Harry, smile small and hopeful. “I don’t think so,” He said in a whisper.

Harry enveloped his lips in an urgent kiss. Their first kiss since touching down two days ago. He sighed into his mouth, tongue lazily swiping Louis’s lips, and Louis immediately drawing his own tongue out to graze against Harry’s. Their breaths were labored and synched, hands expertly weaving through the other’s body. Harry managed to sneak a hand to Louis’s crotch, feeling him up through his joggers, Louis opting to messily run his fingers through Harry’s curls, setting them in every direction and tangling them together. Their hot breaths were controlled enough to fade with the loud noise of distant machines working on cars. A few people walked past the room, chatting in what seemed like Azerbaijani.

Harry seemed to come to his senses a few minutes before Louis would have because he immediately broke their kiss and took a good meter of distance between them. Louis sat in the stretcher panting, skin hot and hard-on clearly visible through his pants.

Harry, for his part, looked a right mess, with curls standing in every direction, skin flushed hot pink, eyes wide, his mouth wet and open as he too gasped for air. Louis looked away from the erotic Da Vinci painting before him to stare at a graph of the human body posted up on a wall to his right.

“Holy fuck,” Harry panted out, chest going up and down as he regained oxygen.

“Yeah, that,” Louis faintly agreed, his body still coming down from the blissful high. His dick was very uncomfortable inside his pants too. “I’ll have to steal a pillow from here to walk the whole paddock Styles. You gave me a bloody boner.”

Harry then realized Louis was, in fact, in such a predicament and seemed to try and swallow his laugh before he snorted it back up. It came out as a loud honk that could’ve passed for an F1 car engine. He immediately tried to frown to calm himself down, which gave him a constipated look that made Louis burst out laughing too. Suddenly, anyone who would have come in would have found a very odd image indeed.

“Just shut up and walk in front of me or something; I need to get to my car before I’m summoned like this to a meeting or something,” Louis said grumpily because he didn’t hate anything more than being cock-blocked by homophobia.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I can carry you on my back or summat. It’ll look like two straight friends being funny. Right?”

“Oh no, baby, it will not,” Louis said sadly for Harry because he was too optimistic for his own good. “Lead the way, devastatingly handsome fellow. I have a cold shower to meet this evening.”

+

The rest of Louis’s workouts, interviews, and practice sessions went by fairly fast. Stello was attending the Baku Grand Prix, probably giddy with the knowledge Louis was forced to behave and stay away from Harry for as long as they were in Azerbaijan.

Two days after physical therapy with Harry, Louis finished Quali in second place, Gemma beating him by less than two-tenths of a second.

As he changed in his tiny changing room at the back of the garage, Harry knocked on the door, “Love, the guys are asking if we want to join them for dinner.”

“Dinner? What guys?” Louis jumped into his ripped jeans, his hair still slightly wet from his shower, “Niall and Liam?”

“Actually, Zayn’s just come in, so, him too,” Harry commented while seeming to observe the model walk into Louis’s box.

“Zayn?” He almost tripped over one of his shoes and slammed the door open.

Indeed, standing by the red door, with a perfectly fitted black suit and black turtle neck stood Zayn, buzzcut a little less buzzcut-y and more like spiked midnight black hair, his normal color.

“Lou!”

“Z!” Louis exclaimed, feeling his chest get warmer. He slammed into the taller man, hugging him tight, “When did you come in?”

“An hour ago, because Liam convinced me to ditch a photoshoot, and I caved,” Zayn smiled, and they let go of their hug. Harry walked and stood by Louis, “Hey H.”

“Hi mate,” Harry greeted with a light smile. They did a weird bro move that Louis did not have the time to figure out.

“I thought we wouldn’t see you until Canada; this is great.”

“Yeah, Li’s been nagging about going out together, so he’s made me come in here and invite the two of you to dinner in a fancy restaurant he found,” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck.

Gauging Harry’s expression, Louis tried to analyze if he was up for it. He found him already looking back with tender eyes, crinkles softly resting upon the corners of his cheeks. Harry raised his eyebrows in question, and Louis nodded. _Do you want to go?_

_Yeah, I don’t mind if you don’t._ Louis almost shivered at the intimacy, his nerves feeling the years that he’d gone by without it.

“We’ll be there, text me the address, and we’ll try to be as punctual as possible.”

“Course’ you will. If it were up to you alone, you’d be there by dessert,” Zayn teased and swished away from Louis’s slap.

“Keep walking, or I’ll get you twat,” Louis yelled through the door once Zayn was far away down the corridor.

Harry pulled him by the back of his hoodie and let his arms quickly wrap around Louis’s shoulders.

“Careful, H,” Louis whispered, looking around nervously.

“Nobody’s here except Ferrari people,” Harry whispered back, a dark tinge of lust in his voice. Louis breathed in the clear air but probably made a mistake when he instead inhaled the complete essence of Harry’s exquisite cologne and shampoo.

“You’ll be the death of me, Harry,” His head pushed back against Harry’s taller body pressed tight to his ass and back.

“Let’s stop before we start dry-humping in your office,” Harry laughed so wonderfully in his ear Louis almost melted to the floor.

“Mhm, you’ve got a tab running, though. We land in London, and you’re _mine._ ”

+

Their dinner was fun and breezy. Gemma also attended, hand in hand with Niall and a warning glare for Harry. He confidently grinned at Niall, who looked back at him with an unsure curve in his mouth.

“Not a word to Niall if it’s about me, or I’ll tell mum about _that_ time you took the car,” Gemma warned, pulling on Harry’s ear afterward and making Louis double over when his boyfriend seemed properly chastised.

“Fine,” He’d got out while rubbing quickly on his red ear, “Arsehole.”

“Loser,” She’d said back with a smile and then retired to sit elegantly at the table. Zayn and Liam talked close with each other but, like them, keeping a safe distance to seem like good friends. Niall kissed Gemma’s cheek when she sat down by her side.

“Y-you fight like my twelve-year-old twin sisters,” Louis said through tears, almost doubling over again.

“Shut up,” Harry said, biting a smile, his whole head going red in an instant.

“Harry, Lou, come on already!” Liam called, beckoning them over.

They walked close to each other but refrained from hand-holding, sharply aware there were far too many people already eyeing them as it was.

At the table, they all shared stories for most of the night. Louis let his eyes wander to Harry’s picture-perfect profile and watched the way his eyes smiled joyously whenever his lips did. He laughed at every joke, nodded at every word, and squinted his eyes whenever he was deeply invested into a single conversation. Louis was absolutely charmed.

He would gesture wildly with his hands. Long fingers stretched as if they weren’t long enough to demonstrate his points. His eyelashes would flutter when he nodded, and his Adam’s apple bobbed rhythmically when he chuckled. Louis had to berate his thoughts a few times whenever Harry’s tongue darted out to lick at his lips or when his fingers reached for his mouth to play with his jaw and light stubble absent-mindedly.

_I take it back, by dessert, you’ll just be sucking Harry off in the bathroom,_ read Zayn’s sudden text once he’d seemed to notice Louis ogling at Harry for most of the night. Louis looked up and found Zayn smirking at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

_Says the_ _saint? You always stare at Liam like you’ll eat him >:/_

_That’s different. I don’t care if everyone knows I want to eat him ;)x_

_Shut up,_ was all he replied, the fight leaving him once Harry softly rubbed on the hand he had on the table.

“Everything okay?” He asked, brow furrowed, looking at his phone, then back at him with those same warm eyes he always seemed to have.

“Never better,” Louis smiled at him, and for a second, almost forgot himself. Sitting right beside him, dim lights, everyone else too busy talking with each other, wonderful ambient music as a background hum. It was almost impossible not to sink into the romance the room oozed. His head inched millimeters from Harry’s lips, as Harry did too, his mouth, so close Harry’s warm breath landed by his chin. His eyes closed.

Then, like a sudden light coming on, he pulled back, heart beating loud in his chest, mouth gasping for air.

“Sorry,” Louis whispered sheepishly.

Harry shook his head, “I miss you too. It would be easier if we were far away from each other. It gets harder not to touch you when it’s just us, like… this,” Harry whispered back, his index finger slowly trailing through Louis’s jawline. He sighed. “Just two more days, hm? We can do it.”

“Hopefully,” He sat back and watched his friends all laughing at something Niall had been telling, Niall's laugh so contagious and loud, a bubble of comfort settled over him. As long as Harry was close by, he could be placid enough to get through the weekend.

+

The weekend seems to fast forward from there. Practice 3 is a blurry mess of driving around the Baku track. The straight seems to get longer every time Louis passes it.

In quali, Liam’s pace picks up tenfold, and by the time it’s over, he’s taken first place, and Louis meets him at the parking spaces in second place.

“Well done, mate,” Louis congratulates a giddy Liam.

“Zayn made me promise to get pole for him,” He’d laughed joyously.

Louis had rolled his eyes but felt the same pit of warmth in his stomach, the feeling, he imagined, a kid would feel when their parents are lovely to each other.

“I’ll get you tomorrow Payno, don’t snooze,” Louis warned while being backing down to the interview station already being beckoned by the host.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lou.”

Then race day; Louis indeed tried to get Liam more than a dozen times, but the man seemed to have been lit on fire, pace impeccable, and defense perfectly executed. Gemma tried overtaking Louis a few times too, and almost did it before Ben warned that he needed to focus before he lost the podium entirely. Louis heeded his words, and once more, parked by the second-place spot and congratulated Gemma and Liam.

Later, in the night, when everyone had gone to bed after a rowdy night of eating pizza and Niall yelling Irish tunes in everyone’s ear, Louis quietly retreated to his hotel suite, his aching body eager to let Harry hold him through the night. He made it all the way up to his floor before realization reached him.

They wouldn’t do that until they were safely back in London. While it was only a day away, from his perspective, the day could’ve well been as long as a month.

_Wanted a nice cuddle tonight :(_

He texted Harry because he was sad and the race high had left him halfway to the hotel in the back of the car.

_Me too, darling, but I had an idea… x_

Louis frowned at the reply and thought for a moment about it. Was he planning on sleeping over? As much as the idea intrigued him, he knew Harry was too careful and thoughtful to arrange that. He pondered all the way to his suite.

One slide of his keycard later, the room came to life, and inside, Harry was sitting at the edge of his bed with two perfectly packed suitcases, a dopey grin on his beautiful dimpled face.

“Hi,” Harry greeted softly, a tinge of pink in his cheeks, “This is my idea. Let’s take the flight leaving in an hour to London.”

Louis felt his body deflate and then fill once more with a rush of relief, “I’ve never been more in love with someone,” He sighed.

“Is that a yes?”

“A bloody yes. Let’s go right now. I can’t wait anymore.”

By the time four am reached Louis’s nightstand clock, Harry had an arm draped over him, his eyelashes fluttering peacefully, and the duvet was thrown over both of them. Louis could feel the wet strands of hair leaving damp spots on his pillow. They’d had the most perfect comeback sex in the living room, a part of the kitchen, and then the rarely used bathtub. He’d never been more thankful for the lack of neighbors on the penthouse floor.


End file.
